Schola cordis, or, The heart of it selfe, gone away from God brought back againe to him & instructed by him in 47 emblems.
         Harvey, Christopher, 1597-1663.
      
       
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             Schola cordis, or, The heart of it selfe, gone away from God brought back againe to him & instructed by him in 47 emblems.
             Harvey, Christopher, 1597-1663.
             Haeften, Benedictus van, 1588-1648. Schola cordis.
             Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.
          
           [6], 195 p.
           
             Printed for H. Blunden ...,
             London :
             1647.
          
           
             Illustrated t. p.
             Adapted by Christopher Harvey from Bendictus van Haeften's "Schola cordis." Sometimes wrongly ascribed to Francis Quarles.
             Reproduction of original in British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
         eng
      
       
         
           Emblem books.
        
      
    
       A43639  R13211  (Wing H183).  civilwar no Schola cordis or The heart of it selfe, gone away from God; brought back againe to him & instructed by him. in 47 emblems. Harvey, Christopher 1647    27515 241 0 0 0 1 0 91 D  The  rate of 91 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 
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                 SCHOLA
                 CORDIS
                 or
              
               The
               
                 Heart
              
               of
               it selfe
               ,
               gone
               away
               from
               
                 God
              
               brought
               back
               againe
               to
               him
               &
               instructed
               by
               him
               in
               47
               
                 Emblems
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Audiam
                 quid
                 Loquatur
                 in
                 me
                 Dominus
              
               
                 psalm
                 .
                 84
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Loquar
                 ad
                 〈…〉
              
               
                 Cer.
                 osa
                 .
                 2
                 
              
            
             
               
                 London
              
               Printed
               for
               
                 H
                 Blunden
              
               at
               the
               Castle
               in
               Corn-hill
               1647.
               
            
             
               Mickael
               
                 uan
              
               lochom
               facit
            
          
        
      
       
       
       
         
           To
           the
           Divine
           Majestie
           of
           the
           onely
           begotten
           ,
           eternall
           ,
           well-belov
           〈…〉
           d
           Son
           of
           God
           and
           Saviour
           of
           the
           World
           
             Christ
             Jesus
             ,
          
           the
           King
           of
           Kings
           and
           Lord
           of
           Lords
           ,
           the
           maker
           ,
           the
           〈◊〉
           ,
           the
           Searcher
           and
           the
           Teacher
           of
           the
           
             HEART
             ;
          
        
         
           The
           meanest
           of
           his
           mostunworthy
           Servants
           offers
           up
           this
           poore
           account
           of
           his
           Thoughts
           ,
           humbly
           begging
           pardon
           for
           all
           that
           is
           amisse
           in
           them
           ,
           and
           a
           gracious
           acdeptance
           of
           these
           weak
           Erdeavours
           for
           the
           advancement
           of
           his
           Honor
           the
           good
           of
           others
           .
        
      
       
       
       
         
           The
           CONTENTS
           .
        
         
           
             THe
             Introduction
             .
          
           
             E
             bleme
             ,
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             The
             infection
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             The
             taking
             away
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             The
             darknesse
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             The
             absence
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             The
             vanity
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             The
             oppression
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             The
             covetousnesse
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             The
             hardnesse
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             The
             division
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             The
             insatiablenesse
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             The
             returning
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             The
             powring
             out
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             The
             circumcision
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             The
             contrition
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             The
             humiliation
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               16.
               
            
             The
             softening
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               17.
               
            
             The
             cleansing
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             The
             giving
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             The
             sacrifice
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               20.
               
            
             The
             weighing
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
           
             
               21.
               
            
             The
             trying
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             The
             sounding
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             The
             levelling
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             The
             renewing
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             The
             enlightening
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             The
             table
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               27.
               
            
             The
             tilling
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             The
             seeding
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             The
             watering
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             The
             flowers
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             The
             keeping
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             The
             watching
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             The
             wounding
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               34.
               
            
             The
             inhabiting
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             The
             enlarging
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             The
             inflaming
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             The
             ladder
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             The
             flying
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             The
             union
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             The
             rest
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               41.
               
            
             The
             bathing
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             The
             binding
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             The
             prop
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             The
             scourging
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             The
             hedging
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             The
             fastening
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             The
             new
             wine
             of
             the
             heart
             .
          
           
             $he
             Conclusion
             .
          
        
      
    
     
       
       
         
           The
           
             School
          
           of
           the
           
             Heart
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
          
           INTRODVCTION
           .
        
         
           
             TUrne
             in
             ,
             my
             mind
             ,
             wander
             no
             more
             abroad
             ,
          
           
             Her
             's
             work
             enough
             at
             home
             ,
             lay
             by
             that
             load
          
           
             Of
             scatter'd
             thoughts
             that
             clogs
             and
             cumbers
          
           
             Resume
             thy
             long
             neglected
             liberty
             (
             thee
             )
          
           
             Of
             selfe-examination
             :
             bend
             thine
             eye
          
           
             Inward
             ,
             consider
             where
             thine
             heart
             doth
             lie
             ,
          
           
             How
             't
             is
             affected
             ,
             how
             't
             is
             busi'd
             :
             looke
          
           
             What
             thou
             hast
             writ
             thy selfe
             in
             thine
             own
             booke
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             conscience
             :
             -
             here
             set
             thou
             thy selfe
             to
             schoole
             .
          
           
             Selfe-knowledge
             'twixt
             a
             wise
             man
             and
             a
             foole
          
           
             Doth
             make
             the
             difference
             :
             he
             that
             neglects
          
           
             This
             learning
             ,
             sideth
             with
             his
             owne
             defects
             .
          
           
             Dost
             thou
             draw
             backe
             ?
             Hath
             custome
             charm'd
             thee
             so
             ,
          
           
             That
             thou
             canst
             relish
             nothing
             but
             thy
             woe
             ?
          
           
             Find'st
             thou
             such
             sweetnesse
             in
             those
             sugar'd
             lyes
             ?
          
           
             Have
             forain
             objects
             so
             ingrost
             thine
             eyes
             ?
          
           
             Canst
             thou
             not
             hold
             them
             off
             ?
             Hast
             thou
             an
             eare
          
           
             To
             listen
             but
             to
             what
             thou
             should'st
             not
             heare
             ?
          
           
             Art
             thou
             incapable
             of
             every
             thing
             ,
          
           
             But
             what
             thy
             senses
             to
             thy
             fancie
             bring
             ?
          
           
             Remember
             that
             thy
             birth
             and
             constitution
          
           
             Both
             promise
             better
             then
             such
             base
             confusion
             .
          
           
             Thy
             birth
             's
             divine
             ,
             from
             heaven
             ;
             thy
             composure
          
           
             Is
             spirit
             ,
             and
             immortall
             ;
             thine
             inclosure
          
           
           
             In
             walls
             of
             flesh
             not
             to
             make
             thee
             debtor
          
           
             For
             house-roome
             to
             them
             ,
             but
             to
             make
             them
             better
             .
          
           
             Thy
             body
             's
             thy
             freehold
             ,
             live
             then
             as
             the
             Lord
             ,
          
           
             No
             tenant
             to
             thine
             owne
             :
             some
             time
             afford
          
           
             To
             view
             what
             state
             't
             is
             in
             :
             survey
             each
             part
             ,
          
           
             And
             above
             all
             take
             notice
             of
             thine
             heart
             .
          
           
             Such
             as
             that
             is
             the
             rest
             is
             ,
             or
             will
             be
             ,
          
           
             Better
             or
             worse
             ,
             blame-worthy
             or
             fault-free
             .
          
           
             What
             ?
             are
             the
             ruines
             such
             thou
             art
             affrai'd
             ,
          
           
             Or
             else
             asham'd
             ,
             to
             see
             how
             't
             is
             decai'd
             ?
          
           
             Is
             't
             therefore
             thou
             art
             loth
             to
             see
             it
             such
             ,
          
           
             As
             now
             it
             is
             ,
             because
             it
             is
             so
             much
             ,
          
           
             Degenerated
             now
             from
             what
             it
             was
             ,
          
           
             And
             should
             have
             been
             ?
             Thine
             ignorance
             ,
             alas
             ,
          
           
             Will
             make
             it
             nothing
             better
             ,
             and
             the
             longer
          
           
             Evills
             are
             suffer'd
             grow
             ,
             they
             grow
             the
             stronger
             .
          
           
             Or
             hath
             thine
             understanding
             lost
             its
             light
             ?
          
           
             Hath
             the
             darke
             night
             of
             error
             dimm'd
             thy
             sight
          
           
             So
             that
             thou
             canst
             not
             ,
             though
             thou
             would'st
             ,
             observe
          
           
             All
             things
             amisse
             within
             thee
             ,
             how
             they
             swerve
          
           
             From
             the
             straight
             rules
             of
             righteousnesse
             and
             reason
             ?
          
           
             If
             '
             so
             ,
             omit
             not
             then
             this
             precious
             season
             .
          
           
             T
             is
             yet
             schoole
             time
             ,
             as
             yet
             the
             doore
             's
             not
             shut
             .
          
           
             Harke
             how
             the
             Master
             calls
             .
             Come
             let
             us
             put
          
           
             Up
             our
             requests
             to
             him
             ,
             whose
             will
             alone
          
           
             Limits
             his
             pow'r
             of
             teaching
             ,
             from
             whom
             none
          
           
             Returnes
             unlearned
             ,
             that
             hath
             once
             a
             will
          
           
             To
             be
             his
             scholar
             ,
             and
             implore
             his
             skill
             .
          
           
             Great
             scearcher
             of
             the
             heart
             ,
             whose
             boundlesse
             sight
          
           
             Discovers
             secrets
             ,
             and
             doth
             bring
             to
             light
          
           
             The
             hidden
             things
             of
             darkenesse
             ,
             who
             alone
          
           
             Perfectly
             know'st
             all
             things
             that
             can
             be
             knowne
             .
          
           
             Thou
             know'st
             I
             doe
             not
             ,
             cannot
             ,
             have
             no
             mind
          
           
             To
             know
             mine
             heart
             :
             I
             am
             not
             onely
             blind
             ,
          
           
             But
             lame
             ,
             and
             listlesse
             :
             thou
             alone
             canst
             make
          
           
           
             Mee
             able
             ,
             willing
             :
             and
             the
             paines
             I
             take
             ,
          
           
             As
             well
             as
             the
             successe
             ,
             must
             come
             from
             thee
             ,
          
           
             Who
             workest
             both
             to
             will
             and
             doe
             in
             mee
             :
          
           
             Having
             now
             made
             mee
             willing
             to
             be
             taught
             ,
          
           
             Make
             mee
             as
             willing
             to
             learne
             what
             I
             ought
             .
          
           
             Or
             ,
             if
             thou
             wilt
             allow
             thy
             scholar
             leave
          
           
             To
             choose
             his
             lesson
             ,
             lest
             I
             should
             deceive
          
           
             My selfe
             againe
             ,
             as
             I
             have
             done
             too
             often
             ,
          
           
             Teach
             mee
             to
             know
             mine
             heart
             .
             Thou
             ,
             thou
             ,
             canst
             soften
          
           
             Lighten
             ,
             enliven
             ,
             purifie
             ,
             restore
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             more
             fruitfull
             ,
             then
             it
             was
             before
             ,
          
           
             Its
             hardnesse
             ,
             darkenesse
             ,
             death
             ,
             uncleannesse
             ,
             losse
             ,
          
           
             And
             barrennesse
             :
             refine
             it
             from
             the
             drosse
             ,
          
           
             And
             draw
             out
             all
             the
             dregs
             ,
             heale
             ev'ry
             sore
             ,
          
           
             Teach
             it
             to
             know
             it selfe
             ,
             and
             love
             thee
             more
             .
          
           
             Lord
             ,
             if
             thou
             wilt
             ,
             thou
             canst
             impart
             this
             skill
             :
          
           
             And
             for
             all
             other
             learning
             take
             't
             who
             will
             .
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               1.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           Infection
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             ACTS
             5.3
             .
          
           
             Why
             hath
             Satan
             filled
             thine
             heart
             ?
          
        
         
           
             
               Epigr.
               1.
               
            
             
               WHilst
               thou
               enclin'st
               thy
               Voyce-envcigled
               eare
               ,
            
             
               The
               subtill
               Serpents
               Syren-Songs
               to
               heare
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               heart
               drinks
               deadly
               poyson
               drawn
               from
               bell
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               a
               Vip'rous
               broed
               of
               sinne
               doth
               swell
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             1.
             
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Profit
               ,
               and
               pleasure
               ,
               comfort
               ,
               and
               content
               ,
            
             
               Wisedome
               ,
               and
               honour
               ,
               and
               when
               these
               are
               spent
            
             
               A
               fresh
               supply
               of
               more
               !
               Oh
               heav'nly
               words
               !
            
             
               Are
               these
               the
               dainty
               fruits
               ,
               that
               this
               faire
               tree
               affords
            
          
           
             The
             Serpent
             .
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Yes
               these
               ,
               and
               many
               more
               ,
               if
               more
               may
               be
               ,
            
             
               All
               ,
               that
               the
               world
               containes
               ,
               in
               this
               one
               tree
            
             
               Contracted
               is
               .
               Take
               but
               a
               tast
               ,
               and
               try
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               maist
               beleeve
               thy self
               ,
               experience
               can
               not
               lye
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               But
               thou
               maist
               lye
               :
               and
               with
               a
               false
               pretence
            
             
               Of
               friendship
               rob
               me
               of
               that
               excellence
               ,
            
             
               Which
               my
               Creators
               bounty
               hath
               bestow'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               freely
               given
               me
               ,
               to
               whom
               he
               nothing
               ow'd
               .
            
          
           
           
             The
             Serpent
             .
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Strange
               composition
               !
               so
               credulous
               ,
            
             
               And
               at
               the
               same
               time
               so
               suspicious
               !
            
             
               This
               is
               the
               tree
               of
               knowledge
               ,
               and
               untill
            
             
               Thou
               eat
               thereof
               ,
               how
               canst
               thou
               know
               what
               's
               good
               or
               ill
               ?
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               God
               infinitly
               good
               my
               maker
               is
               ,
            
             
               Who
               neither
               will
               ,
               nor
               can
               ,
               doe
               ought
               amisse
               .
            
             
               The
               being
               I
               receiv'd
               was
               that
               he
               sent
               ,
            
             
               And
               therefore
               I
               am
               sure
               must
               needs
               be
               excellent
               :
            
          
           
             The
             Serpent
             .
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Suppose
               it
               be
               :
               yet
               doubtlesse
               he
               that
               gave
            
             
               Thee
               such
               a
               being
               must
               himselfe
               needs
               have
            
             
               A
               better
               farre
               ,
               more
               excellent
               by
               much
               :
            
             
               Or
               else
               be
               sure
               that
               he
               could
               not
               have
               made
               thee
               such
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Such
               as
               he
               made
               me
               I
               am
               well
               content
            
             
               Still
               to
               continue
               :
               for
               ,
               if
               he
               had
               meant
            
             
               I
               should
               enjoy
               a
               better
               state
               ,
               he
               would
            
             
               As
               easily
               as
               not
               have
               giv'n
               it
               ,
               if
               he
               would
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Serpent
             .
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               And
               is
               it
               not
               all
               one
               ,
               if
               he
               have
               given
            
             
               Thee
               meanes
               to
               get
               it
               ?
               must
               he
               still
               be
               driven
            
             
               To
               new
               workes
               of
               creation
               for
               thy
               sake
               ?
            
             
               Wilt
               thou
               not
               what
               he
               sets
               before
               thee
               daine
               to
               take
               ?
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Yes
               ,
               of
               the
               fruits
               of
               all
               the
               other
               trees
            
             
               I
               freely
               take
               and
               ear
               :
               they
               are
               the
               sees
            
             
               Allow'd
               me
               for
               the
               dressing
               by
               the
               Maker
               :
            
             
               But
               of
               this
               fatall
               fruit
               I
               must
               not
               be
               partaker
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Serpent
             .
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               And
               why
               ?
               what
               danger
               can
               it
               be
               to
               eat
            
             
               That
               which
               is
               good
               being
               ordain'd
               for
               meat
               ?
            
             
             
               What
               wilt
               thou
               say
               ?
               God
               made
               it
               not
               for
               food
               ?
            
             
               Or
               dur'st
               thou
               think
               that
               made
               by
               him
               it
               is
               not
               good
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Yes
               ,
               good
               it
               is
               ,
               no
               doubt
               ,
               and
               good
               for
               meat
               :
            
             
               But
               I
               am
               not
               allow'd
               thereof
               to
               eat
               .
            
             
               My
               Makers
               prohibition
               under
               paine
            
             
               Of
               death
               the
               day
               I
               eat
               thereof
               ,
               makes
               me
               refraine
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Serpent
             .
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Faint-hearted
               fondling
               ,
               canst
               thou
               feare
               to
               dye
               ,
            
             
               Being
               a
               Spirit
               and
               immortall
               ?
               Fie
               .
            
             
               God
               knowes
               this
               fruit
               once
               eaten
               will
               refine
            
             
               Thy
               groster
               parts
               alone
               ,
               and
               make
               thee
               all
               divine
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               There
               's
               something
               in
               it
               sure
               :
               were
               it
               not
               good
               ,
            
             
               It
               had
               not
               in
               the
               mid'st
               of
               
               th'garden
               stood
               :
            
             
               And
               being
               good
               ,
               I
               can
               no
               more
               refraine
            
             
               From
               wishing
               ,
               then
               then
               I
               can
               the
               fire
               to
               burne
               restraine
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               Why
               doe
               I
               trifle
               then
               ?
               what
               I
               desire
            
             
               Why
               doe
               I
               not
               ?
               Nothing
               can
               quench
               the
               fire
            
             
               Of
               longing
               but
               fruition
               .
               Come
               what
               will
               ,
            
             
               Eat
               it
               I
               must
               ,
               that
               I
               may
               know
               what
               's
               good
               and
               ill
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Serpent
             .
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               So
               ,
               thou
               art
               taken
               now
               :
               that
               resolution
            
             
               Gives
               an
               eternall
               date
               to
               thy
               confusion
               .
            
             
               The
               knowledge
               thou
               hast
               got
               of
               good
               ,
               and
               ill
               ,
            
             
               Is
               of
               good
               gone
               ,
               and
               past
               ,
               of
               evill
               present
               still
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               2.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           taking
           away
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             HOS.
             4.
             11.
             
          
           
             Whoredome
             and
             wine
             ,
             and
             new
             win
             take
             away
             the
             Heart
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 2.
                 
              
               
                 BAse
                 lust
                 and
                 luxury
                 the
                 scumme
                 and
                 d●…osse
              
               
                 Of
                 hell-borne
                 pleasures
                 ,
                 please
                 thee
                 to
                 the
                 losse
              
               
                 Of
                 thy
                 souls
                 precious
                 eyesight
                 ,
                 reaso●…
                 ;
                 ●…
              
               
                 Mind●…sse
                 thy
                 mind
                 ,
                 hear●…●…
                 heart
                 doth
                 grow
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             2.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Laid
               downe
               already
               ?
               and
               so
               fast
               asleepe
               ?
            
             
               Thy
               precious
               heart
               left
               loosly
               on
               thine
               hand
               ,
            
             
               Which
               with
               all
               diligence
               thou
               shouldest
               keep
               ,
            
             
               And
               guard
               against
               those
               enemies
               ,
               that
               stand
            
             
               Ready
               prepar'd
               to
               plunge
               it
               in
               the
               deep
            
             
               Of
               all
               distresse
               ?
               Rouze
               thee
               ,
               and
               understand
            
             
               In
               time
               ,
               what
               in
               the
               end
               thou
               must
               confesse
               ,
            
             
               That
               misery
               at
               last
               and
               wretchednesse
            
             
               Is
               all
               the
               fruit
               that
               springs
               from
               slothfull
               idlenesse
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               list
               soaking
               in
               security
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               drown'st
               thy selfe
               in
               sensuail
               delight
               ,
            
             
               And
               wallow'st
               in
               debauched
               luxurie
               ,
            
             
               Which
               when
               thou
               art
               awake
               and
               see'st
               ,
               will
               fright
            
             
               Thine
               heart
               with
               horror
               .
               When
               thou
               shalt
               de●…cry
            
             
             
               By
               the
               daylight
               the
               danger
               of
               the
               night
               ,
            
             
               Then
               ,
               then
               ,
               if
               not
               too
               late
               ,
               thou
               wilt
               confesse
               ,
            
             
               That
               endlesse
               misery
               and
               wretchednesse
            
             
               Is
               all
               the
               fruit
               that
               springs
               from
               riotous
               excesse
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               dost
               pamper
               thy
               proud
               flesh
               ,
               and
               thrust
            
             
               Into
               thy
               panch
               the
               prime
               of
               all
               thy
               store
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               dost
               but
               gather
               fuell
               for
               that
               lust
               ,
            
             
               Which
               boyling
               in
               thy
               liver
               runneth
               o're
               ,
            
             
               And
               frieth
               in
               thy
               throbbing
               veines
               ,
               which
               must
            
             
               Needs
               vent
               ,
               or
               burst
               ,
               when
               they
               can
               hold
               no
               more
               .
            
             
               But
               oh
               consider
               what
               thou
               shalt
               confesse
            
             
               At
               last
               ,
               that
               misery
               and
               wretchednesse
            
             
               Is
               all
               the
               fruit
               that
               springs
               from
               lustfull
               wantonnesse
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               dost
               feed
               effeminate
               desires
            
             
               With
               spumy
               pleasures
               ,
               whilst
               fruition
            
             
               The
               coals
               of
               lust
               fannes
               into
               flaming
               fires
               ,
            
             
               And
               spurious
               delights
               thou
               doatest
               on
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               mind
               through
               cold
               remisnesse
               ev'n
               expires
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               the
               active
               vigour
               of
               't
               is
               gone
               .
            
             
               Take
               heed
               in
               time
               ,
               or
               else
               thou
               shalt
               confesse
            
             
               At
               last
               that
               misery
               and
               wretchednesse
            
             
               Is
               all
               the
               fruit
               that
               springs
               from
               carelesse-mindednesse
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               thy
               regardlesse
               sense-dissolved
               mind
            
             
               Lies
               by
               unbent
               ,
               that
               should
               have
               been
               thy
               spring
            
             
               Of
               motion
               ,
               all
               thy
               headstrong
               passions
               find
            
             
               Themselves
               let
               loose
               ,
               and
               follow
               their
               own
               swing
               ,
            
             
               Forgetfull
               of
               the
               great
               account
               behind
               ,
            
             
               As
               though
               there
               never
               would
               be
               such
               a
               thing
               ,
            
             
               But
               ,
               when
               it
               comes
               indeed
               ,
               thou
               wilt
               confesse
            
             
               That
               misery
               alone
               and
               wre●…hednesse
            
             
               Is
               all
               the
               fruit
               that
               springs
               from
               soule
               forgetfulnesse
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               remembrest
               not
               thy
               later
               end
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               what
               a
               reck'ning
               one
               day
               thou
               must
               make
               ,
            
             
               Putting
               no
               difference
               betwixt
               foe
               and
               friend
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               suffer'st
               hellish
               Fiends
               thine
               heart
               to
               take
               ,
            
             
               Who
               ,
               all
               the
               while
               thou
               triflest
               ,
               doe
               attend
               ,
            
             
               Ready
               to
               bring
               it
               to
               the
               burning
               lake
            
             
               Of
               fire
               and
               brimstone
               :
               where
               thou
               shalt
               confesse
            
             
               That
               endlesse
               misery
               and
               wretchednesse
            
             
               Is
               all
               the
               fruit
               that
               springs
               from
               stupid
               heartlesnesse
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               3.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           darknesse
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             ROM.
             1.21
             .
          
           
             Their
             foolish
             heart
             was
             darkened
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 3.
                 
              
               
                 SVch
                 cloudy
                 shadowes
                 have
                 eclips'd
                 thine
                 heart
              
               
                 As
                 Nature
                 cannot
                 parallel
                 nor
                 Art
                 :
              
               
                 Vnlessethou
                 take
                 my
                 light
                 of
                 truth
                 to
                 guide
                 thee
                 ,
              
               
                 Blacknesse
                 of
                 darknesse
                 will
                 at
                 last
                 betide
                 thee
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             3.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Tarry
               ,
               O
               tarry
               ,
               lest
               thine
               heedlesse
               hast
            
             
               Hurry
               thee
               headlong
               unto
               hell
               at
               last
               :
            
             
               See
               ,
               see
               ,
               thine
               heart
               's
               already
               half-way
               there
               ,
            
             
               Those
               gloomy
               shadowes
               ,
               that
               encompasse
               it
               ,
            
             
               Are
               the
               vast
               confines
               of
               
               th'infernall
               pit
               .
            
             
               O
               stay
               ,
               and
               if
               thou
               lov'st
               not
               light
               ,
               yet
               feare
            
             
               That
               fatall
               darknesse
               ,
               where
            
             
               Such
               danger
               doth
               appeare
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               A
               night
               of
               ignorance
               hath
               overspread
            
             
               Thy
               mind
               and
               understanding
               :
               thou
               art
               led
            
             
               Blindfolded
               by
               unbridled
               passion
               :
            
             
               Thou
               wand
               rest
               in
               the
               crooked
               wayes
               of
               errour
               ,
            
             
               Leading
               directly
               to
               the
               King
               of
               terrour
               :
            
             
               The
               course
               thou
               takest
               ,
               if
               thou
               holdest
               on
               ,
            
             
               Will
               bury
               thee
               anon
            
             
               In
               deep
               destruction
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               art
               thus
               deprived
               of
               thy
               ●…ight
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               know'st
               no
               difference
               between
               noone
               and
               night
               ,
            
             
               Though
               the
               Sun
               shine
               ,
               yet
               thou
               regard'st
               it
               not
               .
            
             
               My
               love-alluring
               beauty
               cannot
               draw
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               doth
               my
               mind-amating
               terrour
               awe
               thee
               :
            
             
               Like
               one
               that
               had
               both
               good
               and
               ill
               forgot
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               carest
               not
               a
               jot
            
             
               What
               falleth
               to
               thy
               lot
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Thou
               art
               become
               unto
               thy selfe
               a
               stranger
               ,
            
             
               Observest
               not
               thine
               own
               desert
               ,
               or
               danger
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               know'st
               not
               what
               thou
               dost
               ,
               nor
               canst
               thou
               tel
            
             
               Whither
               thou
               goest
               :
               shooting
               in
               the
               darke
            
             
               How
               canst
               thou
               ever
               hope
               to
               hit
               the
               marke
               ?
            
             
               What
               expectation
               hast
               thou
               to
               doe
               well
               ,
            
             
               That
               art
               content
               to
               dwell
            
             
               Within
               the
               verge
               of
               hell
               ?
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Alas
               ,
               thou
               hast
               not
               so
               much
               knowledge
               left
               ,
            
             
               As
               to
               consider
               that
               thou
               art
               bereft
            
             
               Of
               thine
               owne
               eye-sight
               .
               But
               thou
               runn'st
               ,
               as
               though
            
             
               Thou
               sawest
               all
               before
               thee
               :
               whilst
               thy
               minde
            
             
               To
               neerest
               necessary
               things
               is
               blind
               .
            
             
               Thou
               knowest
               nothing
               as
               thou
               ought'st
               to
               know
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               esteemest
               so
            
             
               The
               things
               that
               are
               below
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Would
               ever
               any
               ,
               that
               had
               eyes
               ,
               mistake
            
             
               As
               thou
               art
               wont
               to
               doe
               :
               no
               difference
               make
            
             
               Betwixt
               the
               way
               to
               heaven
               and
               to
               hell
               ?
            
             
             
               But
               ,
               desperatly
               devoted
               to
               destruction
               ,
            
             
               Rebell
               against
               the
               light
               ,
               abhorre
               instruction
               ?
            
             
               As
               though
               thou
               did'st
               desire
               with
               death
               to
               dwell
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               hatest
               to
               heare
               tell
            
             
               How
               yet
               thou
               maist
               doe
               well
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Oh
               that
               thou
               didst
               but
               see
               how
               blind
               thou
               art
               ,
            
             
               And
               seel
               the
               dismall
               darkenesse
               of
               thine
               heart
               :
            
             
               Then
               would'st
               thou
               labour
               for
               ,
               and
               I
               would
               lend
            
             
               My
               light
               to
               guide
               thee
               :
               that
               's
               not
               light
               alone
               ,
            
             
               But
               life
               ,
               eyes
               ,
               sight
               ,
               grace
               ,
               glory
               ,
               all
               in
               one
               .
            
             
               Then
               should'st
               thou
               know
               whither
               those
               by
               wayes
               bend
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               death
               in
               the
               end
            
             
               On
               darkenesse
               doth
               attend
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               4.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           absence
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PROV.
             17.
             16.
             
          
           
             Wherefore
             is
             there
             a
             price
             in
             the
             hand
             of
             a
             foole
             to
             get
             wisdome
             ,
             seeing
             he
             bath
             no
             heart
             to
             it
             ?
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 4.
                 
              
               
                 HAd'st
                 thou
                 an
                 heart
                 ,
                 thou
                 fickle
                 Fugitive
                 ,
              
               
                 How
                 would
                 thine
                 heart
                 hate
                 and
                 disdaine
                 to
                 live
              
               
                 Mindfull
                 of
                 such
                 vaine
                 trifles
                 ,
                 as
                 these
                 be
                 ,
              
               
                 Resting
                 forgetfull
                 of
                 it selfe
                 and
                 me
                 ?
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             4.
             
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Brave
               ,
               dainty
               ,
               curious
               ,
               rare
               ,
               rich
               ,
               precious
               things
               !
            
             
               Able
               to
               make
               fate-blasted
               mortals
               blest
               ,
            
             
               Peculiar
               treasures
               ,
               and
               delights
               for
               Kings
               ,
            
             
               That
               having
               pow'r
               of
               all
               would
               choose
               the
               best
               .
            
             
               How
               doe
               I
               hugge
               mine
               happinesse
               that
               have
            
             
               Present
               possession
               of
               what
               others
               crave
               ?
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Poore
               ,
               silly
               ,
               simple
               ,
               sense-besotted
               soule
               ,
            
             
               Why
               dost
               thou
               hugge
               thy self-procured
               woes
               ?
            
             
               Release
               thy
               freeborne
               thoughts
               ,
               at
               least
               controul
            
             
               Those
               passions
               ,
               that
               enslave
               thee
               to
               thy
               foes
               .
            
             
               How
               would'st
               thou
               hate
               thy self
               ,
               if
               thou
               did'st
               know
            
             
               The
               basenesse
               of
               those
               things
               thou
               prizest
               so
               !
            
          
           
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               They
               talk
               of
               goodnesse
               ,
               vertue
               ,
               piety
               ,
            
             
               Religion
               ,
               honesty
               ,
               I
               know
               not
               what
               ;
            
             
               So
               let
               them
               talk
               for
               me
               :
               so
               long
               as
               I
            
             
               Have
               goods
               and
               lands
               ,
               and
               gold
               ,
               and
               jewells
               ,
               that
            
             
               Both
               equall
               and
               excell
               all
               other
               treasure
               ,
            
             
               Why
               should
               I
               strive
               to
               make
               their
               paine
               my
               pleasure
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               So
               Swine
               neglect
               the
               pearles
               that
               lie
               before
               them
               ,
            
             
               Trample
               them
               under
               foote
               ,
               and
               feed
               on
               draffe
               :
            
             
               So
               fooles
               gild
               rotten
               Idols
               ,
               and
               adore
               them
               ,
            
             
               Cast
               all
               the
               corne
               away
               ,
               and
               keep
               the
               chaffe
               .
            
             
               That
               ever
               reason
               should
               be
               blinded
               so
               ,
            
             
               To
               graspe
               the
               shadow
               ,
               let
               the
               substance
               goe
               !
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               All
               's
               but
               opinion
               that
               the
               world
               accounts
            
             
               Matter
               of
               worth
               :
               as
               this
               or
               that
               man
               sets
            
             
               A
               value
               on
               it
               ,
               so
               the
               price
               amounts
               :
            
             
               The
               sound
               of
               strings
               is
               vari'd
               by
               the
               frets
               .
            
             
               My
               mind
               's
               my
               kingdome
               :
               why
               should
               I
               withstand
               ,
            
             
               Or
               question
               that
               ,
               which
               I
               my selfe
               command
               ?
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Thy
               tyrant
               passions
               captivate
               thy
               reason
               :
            
             
               Thy
               lusts
               usurpe
               the
               guidance
               of
               the
               mind
               :
            
             
               Thy
               sense-led
               fancy
               barters
               good
               for
               geason
               :
            
             
               Thy
               seed
               is
               vanity
               ,
               thine
               harvest
               wind
               :
            
             
               Thy
               rules
               are
               crooked
               ,
               and
               thou
               writ'st
               awry
               :
            
             
               Thy
               wayes
               are
               wand'ring
               ,
               and
               thine
               end
               to
               die
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               This
               table
               summes
               me
               myriads
               of
               pleasure
               :
            
             
               That
               booke
               enroules
               mine
               honours
               inventory
               :
            
             
               These
               bags
               are
               stuft
               with
               millions
               of
               treasure
               :
            
             
             
               Those
               writings
               evidence
               my
               state
               of
               glory
               :
            
             
               These
               bells
               ring
               heav'nly
               musicke
               in
               mine
               eares
               ,
            
             
               To
               drown
               the
               noise
               of
               cumbious
               cares
               and
               feare
               .
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Those
               pleasures
               one
               day
               will
               procure
               thy
               paine
               :
            
             
               That
               which
               thou
               glorist
               in
               will
               be
               thy
               shame
               :
            
             
               Thou
               'lt
               finde
               thy
               losse
               in
               what
               thou
               thought'st
               thy
               gaine
               :
            
             
               Thine
               honour
               will
               put
               on
               another
               name
               .
            
             
               That
               musicke
               in
               the
               close
               will
               ring
               thy
               knell
               ,
            
             
               In
               stead
               of
               heaven
               toll
               thee
               into
               hell
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               But
               why
               doe
               I
               thus
               wast
               my
               words
               in
               vaine
            
             
               On
               one
               ,
               that
               's
               wholly
               taken
               up
               with
               toyes
               ,
            
             
               That
               will
               not
               loose
               one
               dramme
               of
               earth
               to
               gaine
            
             
               A
               full
               eternall
               weight
               of
               heav'nly
               joyes
               ?
            
             
               All
               's
               to
               no
               purpose
               ,
               't
               is
               as
               good
               forbeare
               ,
            
             
               As
               speak
               to
               one
               ,
               that
               hath
               no
               heart
               to
               heare
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               5.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           vanity
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             IOB
             15.31
             .
          
           
             Let
             not
             him
             that
             is
             deceived
             trust
             in
             vanity
             ,
             for
             vanity
             shall
             be
             his
             recompence
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 5.
                 
              
               
                 AMbitious
                 bellowes
                 with
                 the
                 wind
                 of
                 honour
              
               
                 Puffe
                 up
                 the
                 swelling
                 heart
                 ,
                 that
                 dotes
                 upon
                 her
                 :
              
               
                 Which
                 fill'd
                 with
                 empty
                 vanity
                 breaths
                 forth
              
               
                 Nothing
                 ,
                 but
                 such
                 things
                 as
                 are
                 nothing
                 worth
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             5.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               The
               bane
               of
               kingdomes
               ,
               worlds
               disquieter
               ,
            
             
               Hells
               heire
               apparent
               ,
               Satans
               eldest
               sonne
               ,
            
             
               Abstract
               of
               ills
               ,
               refined
               Elixir
               ,
            
             
               And
               quintessence
               of
               sinne
               ,
               Ambition
               ,
            
             
               Sprung
               from
               
               th'infernall
               shades
               ,
               inhabits
               here
               ,
            
             
               Making
               mans
               heart
               its
               horrid
               mansion
               ,
            
             
               Which
               ,
               though
               it
               were
               of
               vast
               content
               before
               ,
            
             
               Is
               now
               puft
               up
               ,
               and
               swells
               still
               more
               and
               more
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Whole
               armies
               of
               vaine
               thoughts
               it
               entertaines
               ,
            
             
               Is
               stuft
               with
               dreames
               of
               kingdomes
               and
               of
               Crownes
               ,
            
             
               Presumes
               of
               profit
               without
               care
               or
               paines
               ,
            
             
               Threatens
               to
               baffle
               all
               its
               foes
               with
               frownes
               ,
            
             
             
               In
               ev'ry
               bargaine
               makes
               account
               of
               gaines
               ,
            
             
               Fancies
               such
               frolicke
               mirth
               ,
               as
               choakes
               and
               drownes
            
             
               The
               voyce
               of
               conscience
               ,
               whose
               loud
               alarmes
            
             
               Cannot
               be
               hard
               for
               pleasures
               countercharmes
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Wer
               't
               not
               for
               anger
               and
               for
               pity
               ,
               who
            
             
               Could
               choose
               but
               smile
               to
               see
               vaineglorious
               men
            
             
               Racking
               their
               wits
               ,
               straining
               their
               sinewes
               so
               ,
            
             
               That
               thorow
               their
               transparent
               thinnesse
               ,
               when
            
             
               They
               me●…
               with
               Wind
               and
               Sun
               ,
               they
               quickly
               grow
            
             
               Riv'led
               and
               dry
               ,
               shrinke
               till
               they
               crack
               againe
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               but
               to
               seeme
               greater
               then
               they
               are
               :
            
             
               Stretching
               their
               strength
               they
               lay
               their
               weaknesse
               bare
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               See
               how
               hells
               Fueller
               his
               bellowes
               plies
               ,
            
             
               Blowing
               the
               fire
               ,
               that
               burnt
               too
               fast
               before
               :
            
             
               See
               how
               the
               furnace
               flames
               ,
               the
               sparkles
               rise
            
             
               And
               spread
               themselve
               abroad
               still
               more
               and
               more
               :
            
             
               See
               how
               the
               doating
               soule
               hath
               fixt
               her
               eyes
            
             
               On
               her
               deare
               fooleries
               ,
               and
               doth
               adore
            
             
               With
               hands
               and
               heart
               lift
               up
               those
               trifling
               toyes
               ,
            
             
               Wherewith
               the
               devill
               cheates
               her
               of
               her
               joyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Alas
               ,
               thou
               art
               deceiv'd
               ,
               that
               glitt'ring
               crowne
               ,
            
             
               On
               which
               thou
               gazest
               ,
               is
               not
               gold
               but
               grief
               ,
            
             
               That
               scepter
               sorrow
               :
               if
               thou
               take
               them
               downe
               ,
            
             
               And
               try
               them
               ,
               thou
               shalt
               find
               what
               poore
               relief
            
             
               They
               could
               afford
               thee
               ,
               though
               they
               were
               thine
               owne
               ,
            
             
               Didst
               thou
               command
               ev'n
               all
               the
               world
               in
               chief
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               comforts
               would
               abate
               ,
               thy
               cares
               encrease
               ,
            
             
               And
               thy
               perplexed
               thoughts
               disturbe
               thy
               peace
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Those
               pearles
               so
               thorow
               pierc'd
               ,
               and
               strung
               together
               ,
            
             
             
               Though
               jewells
               in
               thine
               eyes
               they
               may
               appeare
               ,
            
             
               Will
               prove
               continu'd
               perills
               ,
               when
               the
               weather
            
             
               Is
               clouded
               once
               ,
               which
               yet
               is
               faire
               and
               cleare
               .
            
             
               What
               will
               that
               fanne
               ,
               though
               of
               the
               finest
               feather
               ,
            
             
               Steed
               thee
               ,
               the
               brunt
               of
               windes
               and
               stormes
               to
               beare
               ?
            
             
               Thy
               flagging
               colours
               hang
               their
               drooping
               head
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               shrill
               trumpets
               sound
               shall
               strike
               thee
               dead
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Were
               all
               those
               balls
               ,
               which
               thou
               in
               sport
               dost
               tosse
               ,
            
             
               Whole
               worlds
               ,
               and
               in
               thy
               power
               to
               command
               ,
            
             
               The
               gaine
               would
               never
               countervaile
               the
               losse
               ,
            
             
               Those
               slipp'ry
               globes
               will
               glide
               out
               of
               thine
               hand
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               canst
               have
               no
               fast
               hold
               but
               of
               the
               crosse
               ,
            
             
               And
               thou
               wilt
               fall
               ,
               where
               thou
               dost
               thinke
               to
               stand
               .
            
             
               Forsake
               these
               sollies
               then
               ,
               if
               thou
               wilt
               live
               :
            
             
               Timely
               repentance
               may
               thy
               death
               reprive
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               6.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           oppression
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             LVKE
             21.34
             .
          
           
             Take
             heed
             lest
             at
             any
             time
             your
             hearts
             be
             overcharged
             with
             surfeiting
             and
             drunkennesse
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 6.
                 
              
               
                 Two
                 massy
                 weights
                 ,
                 Surfciting
                 ,
                 Drunkennesse
                 ,
              
               
                 Like
                 mighty
                 logs
                 of
                 lead
                 ,
                 doe
                 so
                 oppresse
              
               
                 The
                 heav'n-borne
                 hearts
                 of
                 men
                 ,
                 that
                 to
                 aspire
              
               
                 Vpwards
                 they
                 have
                 nor
                 power
                 nor
                 desire
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             6.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Monster
               of
               sins
               !
               See
               how
               
               th'inchanted
               soule
            
             
               O'rcharg'd
               already
               calls
               for
               more
               .
            
             
               See
               how
               the
               hellish
               skinker
               plies
               his
               bowle
               ,
            
             
               And
               's
               ready
               furnished
               with
               store
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               cups
               on
               every
               side
            
             
               Planted
               attend
               the
               tide
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               See
               how
               the
               piled
               dishes
               mounted
               stand
               ,
            
             
               Like
               hills
               advanced
               upon
               hills
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               abundance
               both
               of
               sea
               and
               land
            
             
               Doth
               not
               suffice
               ,
               ev'n
               what
               it
               fills
               ,
            
             
               Mans
               dropsy
               appetite
               ,
            
             
               And
               Cormorant
               delight
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               See
               how
               the
               poyson'd
               body
               s
               puft
               ,
               and
               swell'd
               ,
            
             
               The
               face
               enflamed
               glowes
               with
               heat
               ,
            
             
               The
               limbs
               unable
               are
               themselves
               to
               welld
               ,
            
             
               The
               pulses
               deaths
               alarme
               doe
               beat
               :
            
             
               Yet
               man
               sits
               still
               ,
               and
               laughs
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               his
               owne
               bane
               he
               quaffes
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               But
               where
               's
               thine
               heart
               the
               while
               ,
               thou
               senselesse
               sot
               ?
            
             
               Looke
               how
               it
               lieth
               crusht
               ,
               and
               quell'd
               ,
            
             
               Flat
               beaten
               to
               the
               board
               ,
               that
               it
               cannot
            
             
               Move
               from
               the
               place
               ,
               where
               it
               is
               held
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               upward
               once
               aspire
            
             
               With
               heavenly
               desire
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Thy
               belly
               is
               thy
               God
               ,
               thy
               shame
               thy
               glory
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               mindest
               only
               earthly
               things
               ;
            
             
               And
               all
               thy
               pleasure
               is
               but
               transitory
               ,
            
             
               Which
               grief
               at
               last
               and
               sorrow
               brings
               :
            
             
               The
               courses
               thou
               dost
               take
            
             
               Will
               make
               thine
               heart
               to
               ake
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Is
               't
               not
               enough
               to
               spend
               thy
               precious
               time
            
             
               In
               empty
               idle
               complement
               ,
            
             
               Unlesse
               thou
               straine
               (
               to
               aggravate
               thy
               crime
               )
            
             
               Nature
               beyond
               its
               owne
               extent
               ,
            
             
               And
               force
               it
               to
               devoure
            
             
               An
               age
               within
               an
               houre
               ?
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               That
               which
               thou
               swallow'st
               is
               not
               lost
               alone
               ,
            
             
               But
               quickly
               will
               revenged
               be
               ,
            
             
               ●…
               on
               thine
               heart
               ,
               which
               like
               a
               stone
            
             
             
               Lyes
               buri'd
               in
               the
               midd'st
               of
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Both
               void
               of
               common
               sense
            
             
               And
               reasons
               excellence
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Thy
               body
               is
               diseases
               rendevouze
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               mind
               the
               market
               place
               of
               vice
               ,
            
             
               The
               devill
               in
               thy
               will
               keeps
               open
               house
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               liv'st
               ,
               as
               though
               thou
               would'st
               intice
            
             
               Hell
               torments
               unto
               thee
               ,
            
             
               And
               thine
               owne
               devill
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               9
            
             
               Oh
               ,
               what
               a
               dirty
               dunghill
               art
               thou
               growne
               ,
            
             
               A
               nasty
               stinking
               kennell
               foule
               !
            
             
               When
               thou
               awak'st
               and
               seest
               what
               thou
               hast
               done
               ,
            
             
               Sorrow
               will
               swallow
               up
               thy
               soule
               ,
            
             
               To
               think
               how
               thou
               art
               foyl'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               thy
               glory
               spoyl'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Or
               if
               thou
               canst
               not
               be
               asham'd
               ,
               at
               least
            
             
               Have
               some
               compassion
               on
               thy self
               :
            
             
               Before
               thou
               art
               transformed
               all
               to
               beast
               ,
            
             
               At
               last
               strike
               saile
               ,
               avoid
               the
               shelf
               ,
            
             
               Which
               in
               that
               gulse
               doth
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Where
               all
               that
               enter
               die
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               7.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           covetousnesse
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             MAT.
             6.21
             .
          
           
             Where
             your
             treasure
             is
             ,
             there
             will
             your
             heart
             be
             also
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 7.
                 
              
               
                 DOst
                 thou
                 enquire
                 ,
                 thou
                 heartlesse
                 wanderer
                 ,
              
               
                 Where
                 thine
                 heart
                 is
                 ?
                 Behold
                 ,
                 thine
                 heart
                 is
                 here
                 .
              
               
                 Here
                 thine
                 heart
                 is
                 ,
                 where
                 that
                 is
                 ,
                 which
                 above
              
               
                 Thine
                 own
                 deare
                 heart
                 thou
                 dost
                 esteem
                 ,
                 and
                 love
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             7.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               See
               the
               deceitfulnesse
               of
               sinne
               ,
            
             
               And
               how
               the
               devill
               cheateth
               worldly
               men
               :
            
             
               They
               heap
               up
               riches
               to
               themselves
               ,
               and
               then
            
             
               They
               think
               they
               cannot
               choose
               but
               winne
               ,
            
             
               Though
               for
               their
               parts
            
             
               They
               stake
               their
               hearts
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               The
               Merchant
               sends
               his
               heart
               to
               sea
            
             
               And
               there
               together
               with
               his
               ship
               't
               is
               tost
               :
            
             
               If
               this
               by
               chance
               miscarry
               ,
               that
               is
               lost
               ,
            
             
               His
               considence
               is
               cast
               away
               :
            
             
               He
               hangs
               the
               head
               ,
            
             
               As
               he
               were
               dead
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               The
               Pedlar
               cryes
               ,
               What
               doe
               you
               lack
               ?
            
             
               What
               will
               you
               buy
               ?
               and
               boasts
               his
               wares
               the
               best
               :
            
             
               But
               offers
               you
               the
               refuse
               of
               the
               rest
               ,
            
             
               As
               though
               his
               heart
               lay
               in
               his
               pack
               ,
            
             
               Which
               greater
               gaine
            
             
               Alone
               can
               draine
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               The
               Plowman
               furrowes
               up
               his
               land
               ,
            
             
               And
               sowes
               his
               heart
               together
               with
               his
               seed
               ,
            
             
               Which
               both
               alike
               earth-borne
               on
               earth
               doe
               feed
               ,
            
             
               And
               prosper
               or
               are
               at
               a
               stand
               :
            
             
               He
               and
               his
               field
            
             
               Like
               fruit
               doe
               yeeld
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               The
               Broker
               ,
               and
               the
               Scriv'ner
               have
            
             
               The
               Us'rers
               heart
               in
               keeping
               with
               his
               bands
               :
            
             
               His
               souls
               deare
               sustenance
               lyes
               in
               their
               hands
               ,
            
             
               And
               if
               they
               break
               their
               shop
               's
               his
               grave
               .
            
             
               His
               int'rest
               is
            
             
               His
               only
               blisse
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               The
               Money-horder
               in
               his
               bags
            
             
               Binds
               up
               his
               heart
               ,
               and
               locks
               it
               in
               his
               chest
               ;
            
             
               The
               same
               key
               serves
               to
               that
               ,
               and
               to
               his
               brest
               ,
            
             
               Which
               of
               no
               other
               heaven
               brags
               :
            
             
               Nor
               can
               conceit
            
             
               A
               joy
               so
               great
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               So
               for
               the
               greedy
               Landmunger
               :
            
             
               The
               Purchases
               he
               makes
               in
               ev'ry
               part
            
             
               Take
               livery
               and
               seifin
               of
               his
               heart
               :
            
             
             
               Yet
               his
               insatiate
               hunger
               ,
            
             
               For
               all
               his
               store
               ,
            
             
               Gapes
               after
               more
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Poore
               wretched
               Muckwormes
               ,
               wipe
               your
               eyes
               ,
            
             
               Uncase
               those
               ●…
               that
               be●…ot
               you
               so
               :
            
             
               Your
               rich
               appearing
               wealth
               is
               reall
               woe
               ,
            
             
               Your
               death
               in
               your
               de●…res
               lyes
               .
            
             
               Your
               hearts
               are
               where
            
             
               You
               love
               ,
               and
               feare
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Oh
               ,
               think
               not
               then
               the
               world
               deserves
            
             
               Either
               to
               ●…e
               belov'd
               ,
               or
               fear'd
               by
               you
               :
            
             
               Give
               heaven
               these
               affections
               as
               its
               due
               ,
            
             
               Which
               alwayes
               what
               it
               hath
               preserves
            
             
               In
               perfect
               blisse
            
             
               That
               endlesse
               is
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               8.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           hardnesse
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             
               ZECH.
            
             7.
             12.
             
          
           
             They
             made
             their
             hearts
             as
             an
             adamant
             stone
             ,
             lost
             they
             should
             beare
             th●…
             Law
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 8.
                 
              
               
                 WOrds
                 move
                 thee
                 not
                 ,
                 nor
                 works
                 :
                 nor
                 gifts
                 ,
                 no●…
                 strokes
              
               
                 Thy
                 sturdy
                 adamantine
                 heart
                 provokes
              
               
                 My
                 Justice
                 ,
                 sleights
                 my
                 mercies
                 :
                 An●…le
                 ●…
              
               
                 Thou
                 stand'st
                 unmoved
                 ,
                 though
                 my
                 ha●…mer
                 strike
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             8.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               What
               have
               we
               here
               ?
               An
               heart
               ?
               It
               lookes
               like
               one
               ,
            
             
               The
               shape
               ,
               and
               colour
               speake
               it
               such
               :
            
             
               But
               having
               brought
               it
               to
               the
               touch
            
             
               I
               find
               it
               is
               no
               better
               then
               a
               stone
               .
            
             
               Adamants
               are
            
             
               Softer
               by
               farre
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Long
               hath
               it
               steeped
               been
               in
               Mercies
               milke
               ,
            
             
               And
               soaked
               in
               salvation
               ,
            
             
               Meet
               for
               the
               alteration
            
             
               Of
               anvills
               to
               have
               made
               them
               soft
               as
               silke
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               it
               is
               still
            
             
               Hard'ned
               in
               ill
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Oft
               have
               I
               rain'd
               my
               Word
               upon
               it
               ,
               oft
            
             
               The
               dew
               of
               heaven
               hath
               distill'd
               ,
            
             
               With
               promises
               of
               mercy
               fill'd
               ,
            
             
               Able
               to
               make
               mountaines
               of
               marble
               soft
               :
            
             
               Yet
               it
               is
               not
            
             
               Changed
               a
               jot
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               My
               beames
               of
               love
               shine
               on
               it
               every
               day
               ,
            
             
               Able
               to
               thaw
               the
               thickest
               ice
               ,
            
             
               And
               where
               they
               enter
               in
               a
               trice
            
             
               To
               make
               congealed
               Cry●…all
               melt
               away
               :
            
             
               Yet
               warme
               they
               not
            
             
               This
               frozen
               clot
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Nay
               more
               ,
               this
               hammer
               ,
               that
               is
               wont
               to
               grind
            
             
               Rocks
               unto
               dust
               ,
               and
               powder
               small
               ,
            
             
               Makes
               no
               impression
               at
               all
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               dint
               ,
               nor
               crack
               ,
               nor
               flaw
               ,
               that
               I
               can
               find
               ;
            
             
               But
               leaves
               it
               as
            
             
               Before
               it
               was
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Is
               mine
               Almighty
               arme
               decai'd
               in
               strength
               ?
            
             
               Or
               hath
               mine
               hammer
               lost
               its
               weight
               ?
            
             
               That
               a
               poore
               lumpe
               of
               earth
               should
               sleight
            
             
               My
               mercies
               ,
               and
               not
               feele
               my
               wrath
               at
               length
               ,
            
             
               With
               which
               I
               make
            
             
               Ev'n
               heav'n
               to
               shake
               ?
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               No
               ,
               I
               am
               still
               the
               same
               ,
               I
               alter
               not
               ,
            
             
               And
               ,
               when
               I
               please
               ,
               my
               workes
               of
               wonder
            
             
               Shall
               bring
               the
               stoutest
               spirits
               under
               ,
            
             
             
               And
               make
               them
               to
               confesse
               it
               is
               their
               lot
            
             
               To
               bow
               or
               break
               ,
            
             
               When
               I
               but
               speak
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               But
               I
               would
               have
               men
               know
               ,
               't
               is
               not
               my
               Word
               ,
            
             
               Or
               works
               alone
               can
               change
               their
               hearts
               :
            
             
               These
               instruments
               performe
               their
               parts
               ,
            
             
               But
               't
               is
               my
               Spirit
               doth
               this
               fruit
               afford
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               I
               ,
               not
               art
               ,
            
             
               Can
               melt
               mans
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Yet
               would
               they
               leave
               their
               customary
               sinning
               ,
            
             
               And
               so
               unclench
               the
               devills
               clawes
               ,
            
             
               That
               keepes
               them
               captive
               in
               his
               pawes
               ,
            
             
               My
               bounty
               soone
               should
               second
               that
               beginning
               :
            
             
               Ev'n
               hearts
               of
               ●…eel
            
             
               My
               force
               should
               feel
               .
            
          
        
      
       
         
         
         
           
             3.
             
          
           
             I
             gave
             't
             thee
             whole
             ,
             and
             fully
             furnished
          
           
             With
             all
             its
             faculties
             entire
             ,
          
           
             There
             wanted
             not
          
           
             The
             smallest
             jot
             ,
          
           
             That
             strictest
             justice
             could
             require
          
           
             To
             render
             it
             compleatly
             perfected
             .
          
        
         
           
             4.
             
          
           
             And
             is
             it
             reason
             what
             I
             gave
             in
             grosse
          
           
             Should
             be
             return'd
             but
             by
             retaile
             ?
          
           
             To
             take
             so
             small
          
           
             A
             part
             for
             all
             ,
          
           
             I
             reckon
             of
             no
             more
             availe
             ,
          
           
             Then
             where
             I
             scatter
             gold
             to
             gather
             drosse
             .
          
        
         
           
             5.
             
          
           
             Give
             me
             thine
             heart
             but
             as
             I
             gave
             it
             thee
             :
          
           
             Or
             give
             it
             me
             at
             least
             as
             I
          
           
             Have
             given
             mine
          
           
             To
             purchase
             thine
             .
          
           
             I
             halv'd
             it
             not
             when
             I
             did
             die
             :
          
           
             But
             gave
             my self
             wholly
             to
             set
             thee
             free
             .
          
        
         
           
             6.
             
          
           
             The
             heart
             I
             gave
             thee
             was
             a
             living
             heart
             ,
          
           
             And
             when
             thine
             heart
             by
             sinne
             was
             slaine
             ,
          
           
             I
             laid
             downe
             mine
          
           
             To
             ransome
             thine
             ,
          
           
             That
             thy
             dead
             heart
             might
             live
             againe
             ,
          
           
             And
             live
             entirely
             perfect
             ,
             not
             in
             part
             .
          
        
         
           
             7.
             
          
           
             But
             whilst
             thine
             heart
             's
             divided
             it
             is
             dead
             ,
          
           
             Dead
             unto
             me
             ,
             unle●…
             it
             live
          
           
             To
             me
             alone
             ,
          
           
             It
             is
             all
             one
          
           
           
             To
             keepe
             all
             ,
             and
             a
             part
             to
             give
             :
          
           
             For
             what
             's
             a
             body
             worth
             without
             an
             head
             ?
          
        
         
           
             8.
             
          
           
             Yet
             this
             is
             worse
             ,
             that
             what
             thou
             keep'st
             from
             me
          
           
             Thou
             dost
             bestow
             upon
             my
             foes
             :
          
           
             And
             those
             not
             mine
          
           
             Alone
             but
             thine
             ,
          
           
             The
             proper
             causes
             of
             thy
             woes
             ,
          
           
             For
             whom
             I
             gave
             my
             life
             to
             set
             thee
             free
             .
          
        
         
           
             9.
             
          
           
             Have
             I
             betroth'd
             thee
             to
             my selfe
             ,
             and
             shall
          
           
             The
             devill
             ,
             and
             the
             world
             ,
             intrude
          
           
             Upon
             my
             right
             ,
          
           
             Ev'n
             in
             my
             fight
             ?
          
           
             Think
             not
             thou
             canst
             me
             so
             delude
             .
          
           
             I
             will
             have
             none
             ,
             unlesse
             I
             may
             have
             all
             .
          
        
         
           
             10.
             
          
           
             I
             made
             it
             all
             ,
             I
             gave
             it
             all
             to
             thee
             ,
          
           
             I
             gave
             all
             that
             I
             had
             for
             it
             :
          
           
             If
             I
             must
             loose
             ,
          
           
             I
             'll
             rather
             choose
          
           
             Mine
             interest
             in
             all
             to
             quit
             :
          
           
             Or
             keep
             it
             whole
             ,
             or
             give
             it
             whole
             to
             me
             .
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               10
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           insatiablenesse
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             HAB.
             2.5
             .
          
           
             Who
             inlargeth
             his
             desire
             as
             hell
             ,
             and
             is
             as
             death
             ,
             and
             cannot
             be
             satisfied
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 10.
                 
              
               
                 THe
                 whole
                 round
                 world
                 is
                 not
                 enough
                 to
                 fill
              
               
                 The
                 Hearts
                 three
                 corners
                 ,
                 but
                 it
                 craveth
                 still
                 .
              
               
                 Onely
                 the
                 Trinity
                 ,
                 that
                 made
                 it
                 ,
                 can
              
               
                 Suffice
                 the
                 vast
                 triangled
                 heart
                 of
                 man
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             10.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               The
               thirsty
               earth
               and
               barren
               wombe
               cry
               ,
               Give
               :
            
             
               The
               grave
               devoureth
               all
               that
               live
               :
            
             
               The
               fire
               still
               burneth
               on
               ,
               and
               never
               saith
               ,
            
             
               It
               is
               enough
               :
               The
               horseleech
               hath
            
             
               Many
               more
               daughters
               :
               but
               the
               heart
               of
               man
            
             
               Outgapes
               them
               all
               as
               much
               as
               heav'n
               one
               span
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Water
               hath
               drown'd
               the
               earth
               :
               the
               barren
               wombe
            
             
               Hath
               teem'd
               sometimes
               ,
               and
               been
               the
               tombe
            
             
               To
               its
               owne
               swelling
               issue
               :
               and
               the
               grave
            
             
               Shall
               one
               day
               a
               ●…cke
               surfeit
               have
               :
            
             
               When
               all
               the
               fuell
               is
               consum'd
               ,
               the
               fire
            
             
               Will
               quench
               it selfe
               ,
               and
               of
               it self
               expire
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               But
               the
               vast
               heart
               of
               man's
               insatiate
               ,
            
             
               His
               boundlesse
               appetites
               dilate
            
             
               Themselves
               beyond
               all
               limits
               ,
               his
               desires
            
             
               Are
               endlesse
               still
               :
               whilst
               he
               aspires
            
             
               To
               happinesse
               ,
               and
               faine
               would
               find
               that
               treasure
            
             
               Where
               it
               is
               not
               ,
               his
               wishes
               know
               no
               measure
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               His
               eye
               with
               seeing
               is
               not
               satisfi'd
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               's
               care
               with
               hearing
               :
               he
               hath
               tri'd
            
             
               At
               once
               to
               furnish
               ●…ry
               sev'rall
               sense
            
             
               With
               cho●…e
               of
               curious
               objects
               ,
               whence
            
             
               He
               might
               e●…tract
               ,
               ●…
               into
               one
               unite
            
             
               A
               perfect
               quinteflence
               of
               all
               delight
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Yet
               ,
               having
               all
               that
               he
               can
               fancy
               ,
               still
            
             
               There
               wanteth
               something
               more
               to
               fill
            
             
               His
               empty
               appetite
               .
               His
               mind
               is
               vext
               ,
            
             
               And
               he
               is
               inwardly
               perplext
            
             
               He
               knowes
               not
               why
               :
               when
               as
               the
               truth
               is
               this
               ,
            
             
               He
               would
               find
               something
               there
               where
               nothing
               is
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               He
               rambles
               over
               all
               the
               faculties
               ,
            
             
               Ransacks
               the
               secret
               treasuries
            
             
               Of
               Art
               and
               Nature
               ,
               spells
               the
               Universe
            
             
               Letter
               by
               letter
               ,
               can
               reherse
            
             
               All
               the
               Records
               of
               time
               ,
               pretends
               to
               know
            
             
               Reasons
               of
               all
               things
               ,
               why
               they
               must
               be
               so
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Yet
               is
               not
               so
               contented
               ,
               but
               would
               faine
            
             
               Prie
               in
               Gods
               Cabinet
               ,
               and
               gaine
            
             
               Intelligence
               from
               heav'n
               of
               things
               to
               come
               ,
            
             
               Anticipate
               the
               day
               of
               Doome
               ,
            
             
             
               And
               read
               the
               issues
               of
               all
               actions
               so
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               Gods
               secret
               counsells
               he
               did
               know
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Let
               him
               have
               all
               the
               wealth
               ,
               all
               the
               renowne
               ,
            
             
               And
               glory
               ,
               that
               the
               world
               can
               crowne
            
             
               Her
               dearest
               da●…gs
               with
               ;
               yet
               his
               desire
            
             
               Will
               not
               rest
               there
               ,
               but
               still
               aspire
               .
            
             
               Earth
               canno●…
               hold
               him
               ,
               nor
               the
               whole
               creation
            
             
               Containe
               his
               wishes
               ,
               or
               his
               expectation
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               of
               man
               's
               but
               little
               ,
               yet
               this
               All
            
             
               Compared
               thereunto's
               but
               finall
               ,
            
             
               Of
               such
               a
               large
               unparallel'd
               extense
            
             
               Is
               the
               short-lin'd
               ●…
            
             
               Of
               that
               three-corner'd
               figure
               ,
               which
               to
               fill
            
             
               With
               the
               round
               world
               is
               to
               leave
               empty
               still
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Go
               greedy
               soule
               ,
               addresse
               thy selfe
               to
               heav'n
               ,
            
             
               And
               leave
               the
               world
               ,
               as
               't
               is
               ,
               bereav'n
            
             
               Of
               all
               true
               happinesse
               ,
               or
               any
               thing
            
             
               That
               to
               thine
               heart
               content
               can
               bring
               ,
            
             
               But
               there
               a
               trine-une
               God
               in
               glory
               fits
               ,
            
             
               Who
               all
               grace-thirsting
               hearts
               both
               fills
               and
               fits
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               11.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           returning
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             ISAY
             46.8
             .
          
           
             Remember
             this
             ,
             and
             shew
             your selves
             men
             :
             bring
             it
             again
             to
             heart
             ,
             O
             ye
             transgressors
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 11.
                 
              
               
                 OFt
                 have
                 I
                 call'd
                 thee
                 :
                 O
                 returne
                 at
                 last
                 ,
              
               
                 Returne
                 unto
                 thine
                 heart
                 :
                 let
                 the
                 time
                 past
              
               
                 Suffice
                 thy
                 wanderings
                 :
                 know
                 that
                 to
                 cherish
              
               
                 Revolting
                 still
                 is
                 a
                 meer
                 will
                 to
                 perish
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             11.
             
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Returne
               O
               wanderer
               ,
               returne
               ,
               returne
               .
            
             
               Let
               me
               not
               alwayes
               wast
               my
               words
               in
               vaine
            
             
               As
               I
               have
               done
               too
               long
               .
               Why
               dost
               thou
               spurn
            
             
               And
               kick
               the
               counsells
               that
               should
               bring
               thee
               back
               again
               ?
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               What
               's
               this
               that
               checks
               my
               course
               ?
               Me
               thinks
               I
               feel
            
             
               A
               cold
               remisnesse
               seifing
               on
               my
               mind
               :
            
             
               My
               stagger'd
               resolutions
               seem
               to
               reel
               ,
            
             
               As
               though
               they
               had
               in
               hast
               forgot
               mine
               heart
               behind
               .
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Returne
               ,
               O
               wanderer
               ,
               returne
               ,
               returne
               .
            
             
               Thou
               art
               already
               gone
               too
               farre
               away
               ,
            
             
               It
               is
               enough
               :
               unlesse
               thou
               meane
               to
               burne
            
             
               In
               hell
               for
               ever
               ,
               stop
               thy
               course
               at
               last
               and
               stay
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               There
               's
               something
               holds
               me
               back
               ,
               I
               cannot
               move
            
             
             
               Forward
               one
               foot
               :
               me thinks
               the
               more
               I
               strive
            
             
               The
               leste
               I
               stirre
               .
               Is
               there
               a
               pow'r
               above
            
             
               My
               will
               in
               me
               ,
               that
               can
               my
               purposes
               reprive
               ?
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               No
               power
               of
               thine
               own
               :
               't
               is
               I
               ,
               that
               lay
            
             
               Mine
               hand
               upon
               thine
               haste
               :
               whose
               will
               can
               make
            
             
               The
               restlesse
               motions
               of
               the
               heavens
               stay
               ,
            
             
               Stand
               still
               ,
               turne
               back
               againe
               ,
               or
               new
               found
               courses
               take
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               What
               ?
               am
               I
               riveted
               ,
               or
               rooted
               here
               ?
            
             
               That
               neither
               forward
               ,
               nor
               on
               either
               side
            
             
               I
               can
               get
               loose
               ?
               Then
               there
               's
               no
               hope
               I
               feare
               ,
            
             
               But
               I
               must
               back
               againe
               ,
               what
               ever
               me
               betide
               .
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               And
               back
               again
               thou
               shalt
               .
               I
               'll
               have
               it
               so
               .
            
             
               Though
               thou
               hast
               hitherto
               my
               voyce
               neglected
               ,
            
             
               Now
               I
               have
               handed
               thee
               ,
               I
               'll
               have
               thee
               know
               ,
            
             
               That
               what
               I
               will
               have
               done
               shall
               not
               be
               uneffected
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Thou
               wilt
               prevaile
               then
               ,
               and
               I
               must
               returne
               .
            
             
               But
               how
               ?
               or
               whither
               ?
               when
               a
               world
               of
               shame
               ,
            
             
               And
               sorrow
               ,
               lie
               before
               me
               ,
               and
               I
               burne
            
             
               With
               horror
               in
               my self
               to
               think
               upon
               the
               same
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Shall
               I
               returne
               to
               thee
               ?
               Alas
               ,
               I
               have
            
             
               No
               hope
               to
               be
               received
               :
               a
               runne
               away
               ,
            
             
               A
               rebell
               to
               returne
               !
               mad
               men
               may
               rave
            
             
               Of
               mercy
               miracles
               ,
               but
               what
               will
               Justice
               say
               ?
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Shall
               I
               returne
               to
               mine
               owne
               heart
               ?
               Alas
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               lost
               ,
               and
               dead
               ,
               and
               rotten
               long
               ago
               ,
            
             
               I
               cannot
               find
               it
               what
               at
               first
               it
               was
               ,
            
             
               And
               it
               hath
               been
               too
               long
               the
               cause
               of
               all
               my
               woe
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Shall
               I
               forsake
               my
               pleasures
               ,
               and
               delights
               ,
            
             
               My
               profits
               ,
               honours
               ,
               comforts
               ,
               and
               contents
               ,
            
             
               For
               that
               ,
               the
               thought
               whereof
               my
               mind
               affrights
               ,
            
             
               Repentant
               sorrow
               ,
               that
               the
               soule
               asunder
               rents
               ?
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Shall
               I
               returne
               ,
               that
               cannot
               though
               I
               would
               ?
            
             
               I
               ,
               that
               had
               strength
               enough
               to
               go
               astray
               ,
            
             
               Find
               my self
               saint
               ,
               and
               feeble
               ,
               now
               I
               should
            
             
               Returne
               .
               I
               cannot
               runne
               ,
               I
               cannot
               creep
               this
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               What
               shall
               I
               doe
               ?
               Forward
               I
               must
               not
               goe
               ,
            
             
               Backward
               I
               cannot
               :
               if
               I
               tarry
               here
               ,
            
             
               I
               shall
               be
               drowned
               in
               a
               world
               of
               woe
               ,
            
             
               And
               antidate
               mine
               own
               damnation
               by
               despaire
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               But
               is
               't
               not
               better
               hold
               that
               which
               I
               have
               ,
            
             
               Then
               unto
               future
               expectation
               trust
               ?
            
             
               Oh
               no
               :
               to
               reason
               thus
               is
               but
               to
               rave
               .
            
             
               Therefore
               returne
               I
               will
               ,
               because
               returne
               I
               must
               .
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               Returne
               ,
               and
               welcome
               :
               if
               thou
               wilt
               thou
               shalt
               .
            
             
               Although
               thou
               canst
               not
               of
               thy selfe
               ,
               yet
               I
               ,
            
             
               That
               call
               ,
               can
               make
               thee
               able
               .
               Let
               the
               fault
            
             
               Be
               mine
               ,
               if
               when
               thou
               wilt
               returne
               I
               let
               thee
               lie
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               12.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           powring
           out
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             LAM.
             2.
             19.
             
          
           
             Powre
             out
             thine
             heart
             like
             water
             before
             the
             face
             of
             the
             Lord
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 12.
                 
              
               
                 WHy
                 dost
                 thou
                 hide
                 thy
                 wounds
                 ?
                 why
                 dost
                 thou
                 hide
              
               
                 In
                 thy
                 close
                 breast
                 thy
                 wishes
                 ,
                 and
                 so
                 side
              
               
                 With
                 thine
                 owne
                 soares
                 and
                 so
                 rowes
                 ?
                 Like
                 a
                 spout
              
               
                 Of
                 water
                 let
                 thine
                 heart
                 to
                 God
                 break
                 out
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             12.
             
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Can
               death
               ,
               or
               hell
               ,
               be
               worse
               then
               this
               estate
               ?
            
             
               Anguish
               ,
               amazement
               ,
               horror
               ,
               and
               confusion
               ,
            
             
               Drowne
               my
               distracted
               mind
               in
               deep
               distresse
               .
            
             
               My
               grief
               's
               grown
               so
               transcendent
               ,
               that
               I
               hate
            
             
               To
               heare
               of
               comfort
               ,
               as
               a
               false
               Conclusion
            
             
               Vainly
               inferr'd
               from
               feigned
               Premises
               .
            
             
               What
               shall
               I
               do
               ?
               what
               strange
               course
               shall
               I
               try
               ,
            
             
               That
               ,
               though
               I
               loath
               to
               live
               ,
               yet
               dare
               not
               die
               ?
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Be
               rul'd
               by
               me
               ,
               I
               'll
               teach
               thee
               such
               a
               way
               ,
            
             
               As
               that
               thou
               shalt
               not
               onely
               draine-thy
               mind
            
             
               From
               that
               destructive
               deluge
               of
               distresse
               ,
            
             
               That
               overwhelmes
               thy
               thoughts
               but
               clear
               the
               day
               ,
            
             
               And
               soone
               recover
               light
               ,
               and
               strength
               to
               find
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               regaine
               thy
               long
               lost
               happinesse
               .
            
             
               Confesse
               ,
               &
               pray
               .
               Say
               what
               it
               is
               doth
               aile
               thee
               ,
            
             
               What
               thou
               wouldst
               have
               ,
               and
               that
               ●…all
               soon
               ava●…e
               thee●…
            
          
           
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Confesse
               and
               pray
               ?
               If
               that
               be
               all
               ,
               I
               will
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               am
               sick
               ,
               and
               thou
               art
               health
               ,
               restore
               me
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               am
               weake
               ,
               and
               thou
               art
               strength
               ,
               sustaine
               me
               .
            
             
               Thou
               art
               all
               goodnesse
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               and
               I
               all
               ill
               .
            
             
               Thou
               Lord
               ,
               art
               holy
               ,
               I
               uncleane
               before
               thee
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               am
               poor
               ,
               and
               thou
               art
               rich
               ,
               maintaine
               me
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               am
               dead
               ,
               and
               thou
               art
               life
               ,
               revive
               me
               .
            
             
               Justice
               condemnes
               ,
               let
               mercy
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               reprieve
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               A
               wretched
               miscreant
               I
               am
               ,
               compos'd
            
             
               Of
               finne
               ,
               and
               misery
               ;
               't
               is
               hard
               to
               say
               ,
            
             
               Which
               of
               the
               two
               allyes
               me
               most
               to
               hell
               :
            
             
               Native
               corruption
               makes
               me
               indispos'd
            
             
               To
               all
               that
               's
               good
               ,
               but
               apt
               to
               go
               astray
               ,
            
             
               Prone
               to
               doe
               ill
               ,
               unable
               to
               doe
               well
               .
            
             
               My
               light
               is
               darknesse
               ,
               and
               my
               liberty
            
             
               Bondage
               ,
               my
               beauty
               foule
               deformity
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               A
               plague
               of
               leprosie
               o'rspreadeth
               all
            
             
               My
               pow'rs
               ,
               and
               faculties
               :
               I
               um
               uncleane
               ,
            
             
               I
               am
               uncleane
               :
               my
               liver
               broyles
               with
               lust
               ,
            
             
               Rancor
               and
               malice
               overflow
               my
               gall
               ,
            
             
               Envy
               my
               bones
               doth
               rot
               ,
               and
               keep
               me
               leane
               ,
            
             
               Revengefull
               wrath
               makes
               me
               forget
               what
               's
               just
               :
            
             
               Mine
               eare
               's
               uncircumcis'd
               ,
               mine
               eye
               is
               evill
               ,
            
             
               And
               hating
               goodnesse
               makes
               me
               parcell
               devill
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               My
               callous
               conscience
               is
               cauteriz'd
               ;
            
             
               My
               trembling
               heart
               shakes
               with
               continuall
               feare
               :
            
             
               My
               frantick
               passions
               fill
               my
               mind
               with
               madnesse
               :
            
             
               My
               windy
               thoughts
               with
               pride
               are
               tympaniz'd
               :
            
             
               My
               poys
               '
               nous
               tongue
               spits
               venome
               ev'ry
               where
               :
            
             
             
               My
               wounded
               spirit
               's
               swallow'd
               up
               with
               sadnesse
               :
            
             
               Impatient
               discontentment
               plagues
               me
               so
               ,
            
             
               I
               neither
               can
               stand
               still
               ,
               nor
               forward
               goe
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               am
               all
               diseases
               :
               hospitalls
               ,
            
             
               And
               bills
               of
               Mountebanks
               ,
               have
               not
               so
               many
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               halfe
               so
               bad
               .
               Lord
               ,
               heare
               ,
               and
               help
               ,
               and
               heale
               me
               .
            
             
               Although
               my
               guiltinesse
               for
               vengeance
               calls
               ,
            
             
               And
               colour
               of
               excuse
               I
               have
               not
               any
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               thou
               hast
               goodnesse
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               that
               may
               availe
               me
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               have
               powr'd
               out
               all
               my
               heart
               to
               thee
               :
            
             
               Vouchsafe
               one
               drop
               of
               mercy
               unto
               me
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               13.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           circumcision
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             DEVT.
             10.
             16.
             
          
           
             Circumcise
             the
             foreskin
             of
             your
             heart
             ,
             an
             be
             no
             more
             stiffnecked
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 13.
                 
              
               
                 HEre
                 ,
                 take
                 thy
                 Saviours
                 crosse
                 ,
                 the
                 nailes
                 ,
                 and
                 speare
                 ,
              
               
                 That
                 for
                 thy
                 sake
                 his
                 holy
                 flesh
                 did
                 teare
                 :
              
               
                 use
                 them
                 as
                 knives
                 thine
                 heart
                 to
                 circumcise
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 dresse
                 thy
                 God
                 a
                 pleasing
                 sacrifice
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             13.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Heale
               thee
               ?
               I
               will
               .
               But
               first
               I
               'll
               let
               thee
               know
            
             
               What
               it
               comes
               to
               .
            
             
               The
               plaister
               was
               prepared
               long
               agoe
               :
            
             
               But
               thou
               must
               doe
            
             
               Something
               thy selfe
               ,
               that
               it
               may
               bee
            
             
               Effectually
               apply'd
               to
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               I
               ,
               to
               that
               end
               ,
               that
               I
               might
               cure
               thy
               sores
               ,
            
             
               Was
               slaine
               ,
               and
               dy'd
               ,
            
             
               By
               mine
               owne
               people
               was
               turn'd
               out
               of
               doores
               ,
            
             
               And
               crucify'd
               :
            
             
               My
               side
               was
               pierced
               with
               a
               speare
               ,
            
             
               And
               nailes
               my
               hands
               and
               feet
               did
               teare
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Doe
               thou
               then
               to
               thy selfe
               ,
               as
               they
               to
               mee
               :
            
             
               Make
               haste
               ,
               and
               try
               ,
            
             
               The
               old
               man
               ,
               that
               is
               yet
               alive
               in
               thee
               ,
            
             
               To
               crucifie
               .
            
             
             
               Till
               he
               be
               dead
               in
               thee
               ,
               my
               blood
            
             
               Is
               like
               to
               doe
               thee
               little
               good
               :
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               My
               course
               of
               physick
               is
               to
               cure
               the
               soule
            
             
               By
               killing
               sinne
               .
            
             
               So
               then
               ,
               thine
               owne
               corruptions
               to
               controule
            
             
               Thou
               must
               beginne
               .
            
             
               Untill
               thine
               heart
               be
               citcumcis'd
               ,
            
             
               My
               death
               will
               not
               be
               duly
               priz'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Consider
               then
               my
               crosse
               ,
               my
               nailes
               ,
               and
               speare
               ,
            
             
               And
               let
               that
               thought
            
             
               Cut
               Rasor-like
               thine
               heart
               ,
               when
               thou
               dost
               heare
               ,
            
             
               How
               deare
               I
               bought
            
             
               Thy
               freedome
               from
               the
               pow'r
               of
               sinne
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               distresse
               which
               thou
               wast
               in
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Cut
               out
               the
               iron
               finew
               of
               thy
               neck
               ,
            
             
               That
               it
               may
               be
            
             
               Supple
               ,
               and
               pliant
               to
               obey
               my
               beck
               ,
            
             
               And
               learne
               of
               me
               .
            
             
               Meeknesse
               alone
               ,
               and
               yeelding
               ,
               hath
            
             
               A
               power
               to
               appease
               my
               wrath
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Shave
               off
               thine
               hairy
               scalpe
               ,
               those
               curled
               locks
            
             
               Powd'red
               with
               pride
               ,
            
             
               Wherewith
               thy
               scornfull
               heart
               my
               judgements
               mocks
               ,
            
             
               And
               thinks
               to
               hide
            
             
               Its
               thunder-threatned
               head
               ,
               which
               bared
            
             
               Alone
               is
               likely
               to
               be
               spared
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Rippe
               off
               those
               seeming
               robes
               ,
               but
               reall
               rags
               ,
            
             
               Which
               earth
               admires
            
             
             
               As
               honourable
               orna●…nts
               ,
               and
               brags
            
             
               That
               it
               attires
               ,
            
             
               Cumbers
               thee
               with
               indeed
               .
               Thy
               sores
            
             
               Fester
               with
               what
               the
               world
               adores
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Clip
               thine
               Ambitions
               wings
               ,
               let
               downe
               thy
               plumes
               ,
            
             
               And
               learne
               to
               stoope
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               hast
               time
               to
               stand
               .
               Who
               still
               presumes
            
             
               Of
               strength
               will
               droope
            
             
               At
               last
               ,
               and
               flagge
               ,
               when
               he
               should
               flye
               .
            
             
               Falls
               hurt
               them
               most
               that
               climbe
               most
               high
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Scrape
               off
               that
               scaly
               scurffe
               of
               vanities
               ,
            
             
               That
               clogges
               thee
               so
               :
            
             
               Profits
               and
               pleasures
               are
               those
               enemies
               ,
            
             
               That
               worke
               thy
               woe
               .
            
             
               If
               thou
               wilt
               have
               me
               cure
               thy
               wounds
               ,
            
             
               First
               ridde
               each
               humor
               that
               abounds
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               14.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           contrition
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL.
             51.17
             .
          
           
             A
             broken
             and
             contrite
             heart
             ,
             O
             God
             ,
             thou
             wilt
             not
             despise
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 14.
                 
              
               
                 HOw
                 gladly
                 would
                 I
                 bruise
                 ,
                 and
                 breake
                 this
                 heart
              
               
                 Into
                 a
                 thousand
                 pieces
                 ,
                 till
                 the
                 smart
              
               
                 Make
                 it
                 confesse
                 ,
                 that
                 ,
                 of
                 its
                 owne
                 accord
                 ,
              
               
                 It
                 wilfully
                 rebell'd
                 against
                 the
                 Lord
                 ?
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             14.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               if
               I
               had
               an
               arme
               of
               pow'r
               like
               thine
               ,
            
             
               And
               could
               effect
               what
               I
               desire
               ,
            
             
               My
               love-drawne
               heart
               ,
               like
               smallest
               wyre
               ,
            
             
               Bended
               and
               writhen
               ,
               should
               together
               twine
               ,
            
             
               And
               twisted
               stand
            
             
               With
               thy
               command
               :
            
             
               Thou
               should'st
               no
               sooner
               bid
               ,
               but
               I
               would
               goe
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               should'st
               not
               will
               the
               thing
               I
               would
               not
               doe
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               But
               I
               am
               weake
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               and
               corruption
               strong
               :
            
             
               When
               I
               would
               faine
               d●…e
               what
               I
               should
               ,
            
             
               Then
               I
               cannot
               doe
               what
               I
               would
               :
            
             
               Mine
               action
               's
               short
               ,
               when
               ●…
               intention
               's
               long
               :
            
             
               Though
               my
               desire
            
             
               be
               ●…
               as
               fire
               ,
            
             
             
               Yet
               my
               performance
               is
               as
               dull
               as
               earth
               ,
            
             
               And
               stitles
               its
               own
               issue
               in
               the
               birth
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               But
               what
               I
               can
               doe
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               I
               will
               ,
               since
               what
            
             
               I
               would
               I
               cannot
               :
               I
               will
               try
            
             
               Whether
               mine
               heart
               ,
               that
               's
               hard
               and
               dry
               ,
            
             
               Being
               calm'd
               ,
               and
               tempered
               with
               that
            
             
               Liquor
               which
               falls
            
             
               From
               mine
               eye-balls
               ,
            
             
               Will
               worke
               more
               pliantly
               ,
               and
               yeeld
               to
               take
            
             
               Such
               new
               impression
               as
               thy
               grace
               shall
               make
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               In
               mine
               owne
               conscience
               then
               ,
               as
               in
               a
               mortar
            
             
               I
               'le
               place
               mine
               heart
               ,
               and
               bray
               it
               there
               :
            
             
               If
               griefe
               for
               what
               is
               past
               ,
               and
               feare
            
             
               Of
               what
               's
               to
               come
               be
               a
               sufficient
               torture
               ,
            
             
               I
               'le
               breake
               it
               all
            
             
               In
               pieces
               small
               :
            
             
               Sinne
               shall
               not
               finde
               a
               sheard
               without
               a
               flaw
               ,
            
             
               Wherein
               to
               lodge
               one
               lust
               against
               thy
               law
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Remember
               then
               ,
               mine
               heart
               ,
               what
               thou
               hast
               done
               ;
            
             
               What
               thou
               hast
               left
               undone
               :
               the
               ill
            
             
               Of
               all
               my
               thoughts
               ,
               words
               ,
               deeds
               ,
               is
               still
            
             
               Thy
               cursed
               issue
               onely
               :
               thou
               art
               growne
            
             
               To
               such
               a
               passe
               ,
            
             
               That
               never
               was
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               is
               ,
               nor
               will
               there
               be
               ,
               a
               sinne
               so
               bad
               ,
            
             
               But
               thou
               some
               way
               therein
               an
               hand
               hast
               had
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Thou
               hast
               not
               been
               content
               alone
               to
               sinne
               ,
            
             
               But
               hast
               made
               others
               sinne
               with
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Y●…
               made
               their
               sinnes
               thine
               owne
               to
               be
               ,
            
             
             
               By
               liking
               ,
               and
               allowing
               them
               therein
               .
            
             
               Who
               first
               beginnes
               ,
            
             
               Or
               followes
               ,
               sinnes
            
             
               Not
               his
               owne
               sinnes
               alone
               ,
               but
               sinneth
               o're
            
             
               All
               the
               same
               sinnes
               ,
               both
               after
               ,
               and
               before
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               What
               boundlesse
               sorrow
               can
               suffice
               a
               guilt
            
             
               Growne
               so
               transcendent
               ?
               Should
               thine
               eye
            
             
               Weepe
               seas
               of
               blood
               ,
               thy
               sighes
               outvie
            
             
               The
               winds
               when
               with
               the
               waves
               they
               run
               at
               tilt
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               they
               could
               not
            
             
               Cancell
               one
               blot
               .
            
             
               The
               least
               of
               all
               thy
               sinnes
               against
               thy
               God
            
             
               Deserves
               a
               thunderbolt
               should
               be
               thy
               rod
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Break
               then
               ,
               mine
               heart
               :
               and
               since
               thou
               cannot
               grieve
            
             
               Enough
               at
               once
               ,
               while
               thou
               art
               whole
               ,
            
             
               Shiver
               thy self
               to
               dust
               ,
               and
               dole
            
             
               Thy
               sorrow
               to
               the
               sev'rall
               atomes
               ,
               give
            
             
               All
               to
               each
               part
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               that
               art
            
             
               Strive
               thy
               dissever'd
               self
               to
               multiply
               ,
            
             
               And
               want
               of
               weight
               with
               number
               to
               supply
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               15.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           humiliation
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             ECCL.
             7.9
             .
          
           
             The
             patient
             in
             spirit
             is
             better
             then
             the
             proud
             in
             spirit
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 15.
                 
              
               
                 MIne
                 heart
                 ,
                 alas
                 ,
                 exalts
                 it self
                 too
                 high
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 doth
                 delight
                 a
                 loftier
                 pitch
                 to
                 flye
                 ,
              
               
                 Then
                 it
                 is
                 able
                 to
                 maintaine
                 ,
                 unlesse
              
               
                 It
                 feel
                 the
                 weight
                 of
                 thine
                 imposed
                 presse
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             15.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               So
               let
               it
               be
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               am
               well
               content
               ,
            
             
               And
               thou
               shalt
               see
            
             
               The
               time
               is
               not
               mis-spent
               ,
            
             
               Which
               thou
               dost
               then
               bestow
               ,
               when
               thou
               dost
               quell
            
             
               And
               crush
               the
               heart
               ,
               that
               pride
               before
               did
               swell
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               perceive
            
             
               As
               soone
               as
               thou
               dost
               send
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               receive
            
             
               The
               blessings
               thou
               dost
               lend
               ,
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               begins
               to
               mount
               ,
               and
               doth
               forget
            
             
               The
               ground
               whereon
               it
               goes
               ,
               where
               it
               is
               set
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               In
               health
               I
               grew
            
             
               Wanton
               ,
               began
               to
               kick
               ,
            
             
               As
               though
               I
               knew
            
             
               I
               never
               should
               be
               sick
               .
            
             
               Diseases
               take
               me
               downe
               ,
               and
               make
               me
               know
               ,
            
             
               Bodies
               of
               brasse
               must
               pay
               the
               death
               they
               owe
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               If
               I
               but
               dreame
            
             
               Of
               wealth
               ,
               mine
               heart
               doth
               rise
            
             
               With
               a
               full
               streame
            
             
               Of
               pride
               ,
               and
               I
               despise
            
             
               All
               that
               is
               good
               ,
               untill
               I
               wake
               ,
               and
               spie
            
             
               The
               swelling
               bubble
               prickt
               with
               poverty
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               A
               little
               wind
            
             
               Of
               undeserved
               praise
            
             
               Blowes
               up
               my
               mind
               ,
            
             
               And
               my
               swoll'n
               thoughts
               doth
               raise
            
             
               Above
               themselves
               ,
               untill
               the
               sense
               of
               shame
            
             
               Makes
               me
               contemne
               my self-dishonour'd
               name
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               One
               moments
               mirth
            
             
               Would
               make
               me
               run
               starke
               mad
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               whole
               earth
               ,
            
             
               Could
               it
               at
               once
               be
               had
               ,
            
             
               Would
               not
               suffice
               my
               greedy
               appetite
               ,
            
             
               Did'st
               thou
               not
               paine
               in
               stead
               of
               pleasure
               write
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               it
               is
               well
               ,
            
             
               I
               was
               in
               time
               brought
               downe
               ,
            
             
               Else
               thou
               canst
               tell
               ,
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               would
               soone
               have
               flow'n
            
             
             
               Full
               in
               thy
               face
               ,
               and
               studi'd
               to-requite
            
             
               The
               riches
               of
               thy
               goodnesse
               with
               despight
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Slack
               not
               thine
               hand
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               turne
               thy
               Screw
               about
               :
            
             
               If
               thy
               Presse
               stand
               ,
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               may
               chance
               slip
               out
               .
            
             
               O
               quest
               it
               unto
               nothing
               ,
               rather
               then
            
             
               It
               should
               forget
               it selfe
               ,
               and
               swell
               again
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Or
               if
               thou
               art
            
             
               Dispos'd
               to
               let
               it
               goe
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               teach
               mine
               heart
            
             
               To
               lay
               it selfe
               as
               low
               ,
            
             
               As
               thou
               canst
               cast
               it
               :
               that
               prosperity
            
             
               May
               still
               be
               temper'd
               with
               humility
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Thy
               way
               to
               rise
            
             
               Was
               to
               descend
               :
               let
               me
            
             
               My selfe
               despise
               ,
            
             
               And
               so
               ascend
               with
               thee
               .
            
             
               Thou
               throw'st
               them
               down
               ,
               that
               lift
               themselves
               on
               high
               ,
            
             
               And
               raisest
               them
               ,
               that
               on
               the
               ground
               doe
               lie
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               16.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           softening
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             IOB
             23.16
             .
          
           
             god
             maketh
             my
             heart
             soft
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 16.
                 
              
               
                 Mine
                 heart
                 is
                 of
                 it selfe
                 a
                 marble
                 ice
                 ,
              
               
                 Both
                 cold
                 ,
                 and
                 hard
                 :
                 but
                 thou
                 can●…
                 in
                 a
                 trice
              
               
                 Meli
                 it
                 like
                 ●…axe
                 ,
                 great
                 God
                 ,
                 if
                 from
                 above
              
               
                 Thou
                 kindle
                 in
                 it
                 once
                 thy
                 fire
                 of
                 love
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             16.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               blessed
               Founder
               ,
               leave
               me
               not
               :
            
             
               If
               out
               of
               all
               this
               grot
            
             
               There
               can
               but
               any
               gold
               be
               got
               ,
            
             
               The
               time
               thou
               dost
               bestow
               ,
               the
               cost
               ,
            
             
               And
               paines
               will
               not
               be
               lost
               :
            
             
               The
               bargaine
               is
               but
               hard
               at
               most
               .
            
             
               And
               such
               are
               all
               those
               thou
               dost
               make
               with
               me
               :
            
             
               Thou
               know'st
               thou
               canst
               not
               but
               a
               loser
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               When
               the
               Sun
               shines
               with
               glitt'ring
               beames
               ,
            
             
               His
               cold
               dispelling
               gleames
            
             
               Turne
               snow
               ,
               and
               ice
               to
               wat'ry
               streames
               .
            
             
               The
               waxe
               ,
               as
               soone
               as
               it
               hath
               smelt
            
             
               The
               warmth
               of
               fire
               ,
               and
               felt
            
             
               The
               glowing
               heat
               thereof
               ,
               will
               melt
               .
            
             
             
               Yea
               pearles
               with
               vinegar
               dissolve
               we
               may
               ,
            
             
               And
               adamants
               in
               bloud
               of
               goats
               ,
               they
               say
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               If
               nature
               can
               doe
               this
               ,
               much
               more
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               may
               thy
               grace
               restore
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               to
               what
               it
               was
               before
               .
            
             
               There
               's
               the
               same
               matter
               in
               it
               still
               ,
            
             
               Though
               new
               inform'd
               with
               ill
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               can
               it
               not
               refist
               thy
               will
               .
            
             
               Thy
               pow'r
               ,
               that
               fram'd
               it
               at
               the
               first
               ,
               as
               oft
            
             
               As
               thou
               wilt
               have
               it
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               can
               make
               it
               soft
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Thou
               art
               the
               Sun
               of
               right●…
               e●…e
               :
            
             
               And
               though
               I
               must
               ●…
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               's
               growne
               hard
               in
               wickednesse
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               thy
               resplendent
               rayes
               of
               light
               ,
            
             
               When
               once
               they
               come
               in
               sight
               ,
            
             
               Will
               quickly
               thawe
               what
               froze
               by
               night
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               in
               thine
               healing
               wings
               a
               pow'r
               doth
               dwell
            
             
               Able
               to
               melt
               the
               hardest
               heart
               in
               hell
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Although
               mine
               heart
               in
               hardnesse
               passe
            
             
               Both
               iron
               ,
               steel
               ,
               and
               brasse
               ,
            
             
               Yea
               
               th'hardest
               thing
               that
               ever
               was
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               ,
               if
               thy
               fire
               thy
               Spirit
               accord
               ,
            
             
               And
               working
               with
               thy
               word
            
             
               A
               blessing
               unto
               it
               afford
               ,
            
             
               It
               will
               grow
               liquid
               ,
               and
               not
               drop
               alone
               ,
            
             
               ●…●…
               it self
               ●…
               before
               thy
               throne
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Yea
               ,
               though
               my
               flinty
               heart
               be
               such
               ,
            
             
               That
               the
               Sun
               cannot
               touch
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               fire
               sometimes
               affect
               it
               much
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               thy
               warme
               reeking
               self
               shed
               blood
               ,
            
             
             
               O
               Lamb
               of
               God
               ,
               's
               so
               good
            
             
               It
               cannot
               alwayes
               be
               withstood
               .
            
             
               That
               Aqua-regia
               of
               thy
               love
               prevailes
               ,
            
             
               Ev'n
               where
               thy
               powers
               Aqua-fortis
               failes
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Then
               leave
               me
               not
               so
               soon
               ,
               dear
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Though
               I
               neglect
               thy
               Word
               ,
            
             
               And
               what
               thy
               power
               doth
               afford
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               try
               thy
               mercy
               ,
               and
               thy
               love
               ,
            
             
               The
               force
               thereof
               may
               move
               ,
            
             
               When
               all
               things
               else
               successesse
               prove
               .
            
             
               Soakt
               in
               thy
               bloud
               mine
               heart
               will
               soone
               surrender
            
             
               Its
               native
               hardnesse
               ,
               and
               grow
               soft
               ,
               and
               tender
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               17.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           cleansing
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             IER.
             5.
             14.
             
          
           
             O
             Jerusalem
             wash
             thine
             heart
             from
             wickednesse
             ,
             that
             thou
             maist
             be
             saved
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 17.
                 
              
               
                 OVt
                 of
                 thy
                 wounded
                 husbands
                 Saviours
                 side
                 ,
              
               
                 Espoused
                 soul
                 ,
                 there
                 flowes
                 with
                 ●…
                 tide
              
               
                 A
                 sountaine
                 for
                 uncleannesse
                 :
                 wash
                 thee
                 there
                 ,
              
               
                 Wash
                 there
                 thine
                 heart
                 ,
                 and
                 then
                 thou
                 need'st
                 not
                 feare
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             17.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               O
               endlesse
               misery
               !
            
             
               I
               labour
               still
               ,
               but
               still
               in
               vaine
               .
            
             
               The
               staines
               of
               sinne
               I
               see
            
             
               Are
               oaded
               all
               ,
               or
               d●…d
               in
               graine
               .
            
             
               There
               's
               not
               a
               blot
            
             
               Will
               stirre
               a
               jot
            
             
               For
               all
               that
               I
               can
               doe
               :
            
             
               There
               is
               no
               hope
            
             
               In
               Fullers
               sope
               ,
            
             
               Though
               I
               adde
               nitre
               too
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               I
               many
               wayes
               have
               tri'd
               ,
            
             
               Have
               often
               soakt
               it
               in
               cold
               feares
               ,
            
             
               And
               ,
               when
               a
               time
               I
               spi'd
               ,
            
             
               Powred
               upon
               it
               scalding
               teares
               ,
            
             
               Have
               rins'd
               ,
               and
               rub'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               scrap't
               and
               scrub'd
               ,
            
             
             
               And
               turn'd
               it
               up
               ,
               and
               downe
               :
            
             
               Yet
               can
               I
               not
            
             
               Wash
               out
               one
               spot
               ,
            
             
               It
               's
               rather
               fouler
               growne
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               O
               miserable
               state
               !
            
             
               Who
               would
               be
               troubled
               with
               an
               heart
               ,
            
             
               As
               I
               have
               been
               of
               late
               ,
            
             
               Both
               to
               my
               sorrow
               ,
               shame
               ,
               and
               smart
               ?
            
             
               If
               it
               will
               not
            
             
               Be
               cleaner
               got
               ,
            
             
               'T
               were
               better
               I
               had
               none
               .
            
             
               Yet
               how
               should
               we
            
             
               Divided
               be
               ,
            
             
               That
               are
               not
               two
               ,
               but
               one
               ?
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               But
               am
               I
               not
               starke
               wilde
               ,
            
             
               That
               go
               about
               to
               wash
               mine
               heart
            
             
               With
               hands
               that
               are
               defil'd
               ,
            
             
               As
               much
               as
               any
               other
               part
               ?
            
             
               Whilst
               all
               thy
               teares
               ,
            
             
               Thine
               hopes
               ,
               and
               feares
               ,
            
             
               Both
               ev'ry
               word
               ,
               and
               deed
               ,
            
             
               And
               thought
               is
               foule
               ,
            
             
               Poore
               filly
               soule
               ,
            
             
               How
               canst
               thou
               looke
               to
               speed
               ?
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Can
               there
               no
               helpe
               be
               had
               ?
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               art
               holy
               ,
               thou
               art
               pure
               :
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               is
               not
               so
               bad
               ,
            
             
               So
               soule
               ,
               but
               thou
               canst
               cleanse
               it
               sure
               .
            
             
               Speak
               ,
               blessed
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Wilt
               thou
               afford
            
             
               Me
               meanes
               to
               make
               it
               cleane
               ?
            
             
             
               I
               know
               thou
               ●…
               :
            
             
               Thy
               ●…loud
               were
               spilt
            
             
               Should
               it
               runne
               still
               in
               vaine
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Then
               to
               that
               blessed
               spring
               ,
            
             
               Which
               from
               my
               Saviours
               sacred
               side
            
             
               Doth
               flow
               ,
               mine
               heart
               I
               'll
               bring
               ,
            
             
               And
               there
               it
               will
               be
               purifi'd
               .
            
             
               Although
               the
               dye
               ,
            
             
               Wherein
               I
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Crimson
               ,
               or
               scarlet
               were
               ,
            
             
               This
               bloud
               I
               know
            
             
               Will
               make
               't
               ,
               as
               snow
               ,
            
             
               Or
               wooll
               ,
               both
               cleane
               ,
               and
               cleere
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               18.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           giving
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PROV.
             23.21
             .
          
           
             My
             sonne
             give
             me
             thine
             heart
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 18.
                 
              
               
                 THe
                 onely
                 love
                 ,
                 the
                 onely
                 seare
                 ,
                 thou
                 art
                 ,
              
               
                 Dear
                 ,
                 and
                 dread
                 Saviour
                 ,
                 of
                 my
                 sin-sick
                 heart
                 .
              
               
                 ●…
                 heart
                 thou
                 gavest
                 ,
                 that
                 it
                 might
                 be
                 mine
                 :
              
               
                 Take
                 thou
                 mine
                 heart
                 then
                 ,
                 that
                 it
                 may
                 be
                 thine
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             18.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Give
               thee
               mine
               ●…
               Lord
               so
               I
               would
               ,
            
             
               And
               there
               's
               great
               reason
               that
               I
               should
               ,
            
             
               If
               it
               were
               worth
               the
               having
               :
            
             
               Yet
               sure
               thou
               wilt
               esteem
               that
               good
               ,
            
             
               Which
               thou
               hast
               purchas'd
               with
               thy
               bloud
               ,
            
             
               And
               thought
               it
               worth
               the
               craving
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Give
               thee
               mine
               heart
               ?
               Lord
               ,
               so
               I
               will
               ,
            
             
               If
               thou
               wilt
               first
               impart
               the
               skill
            
             
               Of
               bringing
               it
               to
               thee
               :
            
             
               But
               should
               I
               trust
               my selfe
               to
               give
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               ,
               as
               sure
               as
               I
               doe
               live
               ,
            
             
               I
               should
               deceived
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               As
               all
               the
               value
               of
               mine
               heart
            
             
               Proceeds
               from
               favour
               ,
               not
               ●…
               ,
            
             
               Acceptance
               is
               its
               worth
               :
            
             
             
               So
               neither
               know
               I
               how
               to
               bring
            
             
               A
               present
               to
               my
               heav'nly
               King
               ,
            
             
               Unlesse
               he
               set
               it
               forth
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Lord
               of
               my
               life
               ,
               me
               thinkes
               I
               heare
            
             
               Thee
               say
               ,
               that
               thee
               alone
               to
               feare
               ,
            
             
               And
               thee
               alone
               to
               love
               ,
            
             
               Is
               to
               bestow
               mine
               heart
               on
               thee
               ,
            
             
               That
               other
               giving
               none
               can
               be
               ,
            
             
               Whereof
               thou
               wilt
               approve
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               And
               well
               thou
               dost
               deserve
               to
               be
            
             
               Both
               loved
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               and
               fear'd
               by
               me
               ,
            
             
               So
               good
               ,
               so
               great
               ,
               thou
               art
               :
            
             
               Greatnesse
               so
               good
               ,
               goodnesse
               so
               great
               ,
            
             
               As
               pa●…eth
               all
               finite
               conceit
               ,
            
             
               And
               ravisheth
               mine
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Should
               I
               not
               love
               thee
               ,
               blessed
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Who
               freely
               of
               thine
               owne
               accord
            
             
               Laid'st
               downe
               thy
               life
               for
               me
               ?
            
             
               For
               me
               ,
               that
               was
               not
               dead
               alone
               ,
            
             
               But
               desp'ratly
               transcendent
               grown
            
             
               In
               enmitie
               to
               thee
               ?
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Should
               I
               not
               feare
               before
               thee
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Who●…
               hand
               ●…
               heaven
               ,
               at
               whose
               word
            
             
               Devills
               themselves
               doe
               quake
               ?
            
             
               Whose
               eyes
               out-shine
               the
               Sunne
               ,
               whose
               beck
            
             
               Can
               the
               whole
               ●…
               of
               Nature
               check
               ,
            
             
               And
               its
               foundations
               shake
               ?
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Should
               I
               with-hold
               mine
               heart
               from
               thee
               ,
            
             
             
               The
               fountaine
               of
               felicity
               ,
            
             
               Before
               whose
               presence
               is
            
             
               Fulnesse
               of
               joy
               ,
               at
               whose
               right
               hand
            
             
               All
               pleasures
               in
               perfection
               stand
               ,
            
             
               And
               everlasting
               blisse
               ?
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               had
               I
               hearts
               a
               million
               ,
            
             
               And
               ●…riads
               in
               ev'ry
               one
            
             
               Of
               choisest
               loves
               ,
               and
               feares
               ,
            
             
               They
               were
               too
               little
               to
               bestow
            
             
               On
               thee
               ,
               to
               whom
               I
               all
               things
               owe
               ,
            
             
               I
               should
               be
               in
               arreares
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Yet
               ,
               since
               mine
               heart
               's
               the
               most
               I
               have
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               which
               thou
               dost
               chiefely
               crave
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               shalt
               not
               of
               it
               misse
               .
            
             
               Although
               I
               cannot
               give
               it
               so
               ,
            
             
               As
               I
               should
               doe
               ,
               I
               'll
               offer
               't
               though
               :
            
             
               Lord
               take
               it
               ,
               here
               it
               is
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               19.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           Sacrifice
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL
             51.17
             .
          
           
             The
             sacrifices
             of
             God
             are
             a
             broken
             heart
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 19.
                 
              
               
                 NOr
                 calves
                 ,
                 nor
                 bulls
                 ,
                 are
                 sacrifices
                 good
              
               
                 Enough
                 for
                 thee
                 ,
                 who
                 gav'st
                 for
                 me
                 thy
                 bloud
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 more
                 ●…
                 that
                 ,
                 thy
                 life
                 :
                 Take
                 thine
                 own
                 part
                 ,
              
               
                 Great
                 God
                 ,
                 that
                 gavest
                 all
                 ,
                 here
                 take
                 mine
                 heart
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             19.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Thy
               former
               covenant
               of
               old
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Law
               of
               Ordinances
               ,
               did
               require
            
             
               Fat
               sacrifices
               from
               the
               fold
               ,
            
             
               And
               many
               other
               oft
               rings
               made
               by
               fire
               .
            
             
               Whilst
               thy
               first
               Tabernacle
               stood
               ,
            
             
               All
               things
               were
               consecrate
               with
               ●…
            
          
           
             
               2
            
             
               And
               can
               thy
               better
               Covenant
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               law
               of
               grace
               ,
               and
               truth
               by
               Jesus
               Christ
               ,
            
             
               It
               s
               proper
               sacrifices
               want
            
             
               For
               such
               an
               Altar
               ,
               and
               for
               such
               a
               Priest
               ?
            
             
               No
               ,
               no
               ,
               thy
               Gospell
               doth
               require
            
             
               Choyse
               off'rings
               too
               ,
               and
               made
               by
               fire
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               A
               sacrifice
               for
               ●…nne
               indeed
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               didst
               make
               thy self
               ,
               and
               once
               for
               all
               :
            
             
               So
               that
               there
               never
               will
               be
               need
            
             
               Of
               any
               more
               sin-off'rings
               ,
               great
               ,
               or
               small
               .
            
             
             
               The
               life
               bloud
               thou
               did'st
               shed
               for
               me
               ,
            
             
               Hath
               set
               my
               soule
               for
               ever
               free
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Yea
               ,
               the
               same
               sacrifice
               thou
               dost
            
             
               Still
               offer
               in
               behalfe
               of
               thine
               elect
               :
            
             
               And
               to
               improve
               it
               to
               the
               most
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               ,
               and
               Sacraments
               doe
               in
               effect
            
             
               Offer
               thee
               oft
               ,
               and
               sacrifice
            
             
               Thee
               daily
               in
               our
               eare●…
               ,
               and
               eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Yea
               ,
               each
               beleeving
               soule
               may
               take
            
             
               Thy
               sacrificed
               flesh
               ,
               and
               bloud
               by
               faith
               ,
            
             
               And
               therewith
               an
               atonement
               make
            
             
               For
               all
               its
               trespasses
               ,
               thy
               Gospell
               faith
               .
            
             
               Such
               infinite
               transcendent
               price
            
             
               Is
               there
               in
               thy
               sweet
               sacrifice
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               But
               is
               this
               all
               ?
               Must
               there
               not
               be
            
             
               Peace-offerings
               ,
               and
               sacrifices
               of
            
             
               Thanksgiving
               tendered
               unto
               thee
               ?
            
             
               Yes
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               I
               know
               I
               should
               but
               mock
               ,
               and
               scoffe
            
             
               Thy
               sacrifice
               for
               ●…nne
               ,
               should
               I
            
             
               My
               sacrifice
               of
               praise
               deny
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               But
               I
               have
               nothing
               of
               mine
               owne
            
             
               Worthy
               to
               be
               presented
               in
               thy
               fight
               ,
            
             
               Yea
               the
               whole
               world
               affords
               not
               one
            
             
               Or
               Ramme
               ,
               or
               Lambe
               ,
               wherein
               thou
               canst
               delight
               .
            
             
               Lesse
               then
               my self
               it
               must
               not
               be
               :
            
             
               For
               thou
               didst
               give
               thy self
               for
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               My self
               then
               I
               must
               sacrifice
               :
            
             
               And
               so
               I
               will
               ,
               mine
               heart
               ,
               the
               onely
               thing
            
             
             
               Thou
               dost
               above
               all
               other
               prize
            
             
               As
               thine
               owne
               part
               ,
               the
               best
               I
               have
               to
               bring
               .
            
             
               An
               humble
               heart
               's
               a
               sacrifice
               ,
            
             
               Which
               I
               know
               thou
               wilt
               not
               despise
               ,
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               be
               my
               altar
               ,
               ●…
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               thy
               sacrifice
               ,
               and
               ●…
               thy
               Spirit
            
             
               Kindle
               thy
               fire
               of
               love
               ,
               that
               I
               ,
            
             
               Burning
               with
               zeale
               to
               mag●…
               thy
               merit
               ,
            
             
               May
               both
               consume
               my
               ●…
               ,
               and
               ●…
            
             
               Et●…nall
               ●…phie
               to
               thy
               ●…
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               20.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           weighing
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PROV.
             21.2
             .
          
           
             The
             Lord
             pondereth
             the
             heart
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 20.
                 
              
               
                 THe
                 heart
                 thou
                 giv'st
                 as
                 a
                 great
                 gift
                 ,
                 my
                 love
                 ,
              
               
                 Brought
                 to
                 the
                 triall
                 nothing
                 such
                 will
                 prove
                 ,
              
               
                 If
                 Iustice
                 equall
                 baliance
                 tell
                 thy
                 fight
              
               
                 That
                 weighed
                 with
                 my
                 Law
                 it
                 is
                 too
                 light
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             20.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               true
               indeed
               ,
               an
               heart
            
             
               Such
               as
               it
               ought
               to
               be
               ,
            
             
               Entire
               ,
               and
               sound
               in
               ev'ry
               part
               ,
            
             
               Is
               alwayes
               welcome
               unto
               me
               .
            
             
               He
               that
               would
               please
               me
               with
               an
               offering
            
             
               Cannot
               a
               better
               have
               ,
               although
               he
               were
               a
               King
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               And
               there
               is
               none
               so
               poore
               ,
            
             
               But
               if
               he
               will
               he
               may
            
             
               Bring
               mean
               heart
               ,
               although
               no
               more
               ,
            
             
               And
               on
               mine
               altar
               may
               it
               lay
               .
            
             
               The
               sacrice
               which
               I
               like
               best
               ,
               is
               such
            
             
               As
               rich
               men
               cannot
               beast
               ,
               and
               poore
               men
               need
               not
               grutch
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Yet
               ev'ry
               heart
               is
               not
            
             
               A
               gift
               sufficient
               ,
            
             
               It
               must
               be
               purg'd
               from
               ev'ry
               spot
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               to
               pieces
               must
               be
               rent
               .
            
             
             
               Though
               thou
               hast
               sought
               to
               circumcise
               ,
               and
               bruise't
               ,
            
             
               It
               must
               be
               weighed
               too
               ,
               or
               else
               I
               shall
               refuse
               't
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               My
               ballances
               are
               just
               ,
            
             
               My
               Law
               's
               an
               equall
               weight
               ,
            
             
               The
               beame
               is
               strong
               ,
               and
               thou
               maist
               trust
            
             
               My
               steady
               hand
               to
               hold
               it
               streight
               .
            
             
               Were
               thine
               heart
               equall
               to
               the
               world
               in
               ●…ght
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               it
               were
               nothing
               worth
               ,
               if
               it
               should
               prove
               too
               light
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               And
               so
               thou
               see'st
               it
               doth
               ,
            
             
               My
               pond
               rous
               Law
               doth
               presse
            
             
               This
               scale
               ,
               but
               that
               ,
               as
               fill'd
               with
               froth
               ,
            
             
               Tilts
               up
               ,
               and
               makes
               no
               shew
               of
               stresse
               .
            
             
               Thine
               heart
               is
               empty
               sure
               ,
               or
               else
               it
               would
            
             
               In
               weight
               ,
               as
               well
               as
               bulke
               ,
               better
               proportion
               hold
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Search
               it
               ,
               and
               thou
               shalt
               find
            
             
               It
               wants
               integrity
               ,
            
             
               And
               is
               not
               yet
               so
               thorow
               lin'd
            
             
               With
               single
               ey'd
               sincerity
               ,
            
             
               As
               it
               should
               be
               :
               some
               more
               humility
            
             
               There
               wants
               to
               make
               it
               weight
               ,
               and
               some
               more
               constancy
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               windy
               vanity
               .
            
             
               Doth
               ●…any
               up
               with
               pride
               ,
            
             
               And
               double
               fac'd
               hypocri●…
            
             
               Doth
               many
               empty
               hollowes
               hide
               ,
            
             
               It
               is
               but
               good
               in
               part
               ,
               and
               that
               but
               little
               ,
            
             
               Wav'ring
               unstaidnesse
               ma●…
               its
               resolutions
               brittle
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               ,
               that
               in
               my
               sight
            
             
               As
               currant
               coyne
               would
               passe
               ,
            
             
             
               Must
               not
               be
               the
               least
               graine
               too
               light
               ,
            
             
               But
               as
               at
               first
               it
               stamped
               was
               .
            
             
               Keep
               then
               thine
               heart
               till
               it
               be
               better
               growne
               ,
            
             
               And
               ,
               when
               it
               is
               full
               weight
               ,
               I
               'll
               take
               it
               for
               mine
               owne
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               But
               if
               thou
               art
               asham'd
            
             
               To
               find
               thine
               heart
               so
               light
               ,
            
             
               And
               art
               afraid
               thou
               shalt
               be
               blam'd
               ,
            
             
               I
               'll
               teach
               thee
               how
               to
               set
               it
               right
               .
            
             
               Adde
               to
               my
               Law
               my
               Gospell
               ,
               and
               there
               see
            
             
               My
               merits
               thine
               ,
               and
               then
               the
               scales
               will
               equall
               be
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               21.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           trying
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PROV.
             17.3
             .
          
           
             The
             fining
             pot
             for
             silver
             ,
             and
             the
             furnace
             for
             gold
             :
             but
             the
             Lord
             trieth
             the
             hearts
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 21.
                 
              
               
                 THine
                 heart
                 ,
                 my
                 deer
                 ,
                 more
                 precious
                 is
                 then
                 gold
                 ,
              
               
                 Or
                 the
                 most
                 precious
                 things
                 that
                 can
                 be
                 told
                 :
              
               
                 Provided
                 first
                 that
                 my
                 pure
                 fire
                 have
                 tri'd
              
               
                 Out
                 all
                 the
                 drosse
                 ,
                 and
                 passe
                 it
                 purifi'd
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             21.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               What
               ?
               take
               it
               at
               adventure
               ,
               and
               not
               try
            
             
               What
               metall
               it
               is
               made
               of
               ?
               No
               ,
               not
               I.
            
             
               Should
               I
               now
               lightly
               let
               it
               passe
               ,
            
             
               Take
               sullen
               lead
               for
               silver
               ,
               sounding
               brasse
            
             
               In
               stead
               of
               solid
               gold
               ,
               alas
               ,
            
             
               What
               would
               become
               of
               it
               ?
               In
               the
               great
               day
            
             
               Of
               making
               jewells
               't
               would
               be
               cast
               away
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               thou
               giv'st
               me
               must
               be
               such
               a
               one
               ,
            
             
               As
               is
               the
               same
               throughout
               .
               I
               will
               have
               none
            
             
               But
               that
               ,
               which
               will
               abide
               the
               fire
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               not
               a
               glitt'ring
               outside
               I
               desire
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               seeming
               shewes
               doe
               soone
               expire
               :
            
             
               But
               reall
               worth
               within
               ,
               which
               neither
               drosie
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               base
               allayes
               ,
               make
               subject
               unto
               losse
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               If
               in
               the
               composition
               of
               thine
               heart
            
             
             
               A
               stubborne
               steely
               wilfulnesse
               have
               part
               ,
            
             
               That
               will
               not
               bow
               and
               bend
               to
               me
               ,
            
             
               Save
               onely
               in
               a
               meer
               formality
            
             
               Of
               tinsell-trim'd
               hypocrisie
               ,
            
             
               I
               care
               not
               for
               it
               ,
               though
               it
               shew
               as
               faire
               ,
            
             
               As
               the
               first
               blush
               of
               the
               Sun-gilded
               aire
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               that
               in
               my
               furnace
               will
               not
               melt
               ,
            
             
               When
               it
               the
               glowing
               heat
               thereof
               hath
               felt
            
             
               Turne
               liquid
               ,
               and
               dillolve
               in
               teares
            
             
               Of
               true
               repentance
               for
               its
               faults
               ,
               that
               heares
            
             
               My
               threatning
               voyce
               ,
               and
               never
               feares
               ,
            
             
               Is
               not
               an
               heart
               worth
               having
               .
               If
               it
               be
            
             
               An
               heart
               of
               stone
               ,
               't
               is
               not
               an
               heart
               for
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               ,
               that
               cast
               into
               my
               fornace
               spits
               ,
            
             
               And
               sparkles
               in
               my
               face
               ,
               falls
               into
               fits
            
             
               Of
               discontented
               grudging
               ,
               whines
            
             
               When
               it
               is
               broken
               of
               its
               will
               ,
               repines
            
             
               At
               the
               least
               suffering
               ,
               declines
            
             
               My
               fatherly
               correction
               ,
               is
               an
               heart
            
             
               On
               which
               I
               care
               not
               to
               bestow
               mine
               art
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               that
               in
               my
               flames
               asunder
               flies
               ,
            
             
               Scatters
               it selse
               at
               randon
               ,
               and
               so
               lies
            
             
               In
               heapes
               of
               ashes
               here
               ,
               and
               there
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               dry
               d●…persed
               parts
               will
               not
               draw
               nee●…
            
             
               To
               one
               another
               ,
               and
               adhere
            
             
               In
               a
               firme
               union
               ,
               hath
               no
               metall
               in
               't
            
             
               Fit
               to
               be
               stamp'd
               ,
               and
               coyned
               in
               my
               mint
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               ,
               that
               vapours
               out
               it selfe
               in
               smoak
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               those
               cloudy
               shadowes
               thinks
               to
               cloak
            
             
             
               Its
               empty
               nakednesse
               ,
               how
               much
            
             
               So
               ever
               thou
               esteemest
               it
               ,
               is
               such
            
             
               As
               never
               will
               endure
               my
               touch
               .
            
             
               Before
               I
               tak
               't
               for
               mine
               then
               I
               will
               trie
            
             
               What
               kind
               of
               metall
               in
               thine
               heart
               '
               doth
               lie
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               I
               'll
               bring
               it
               to
               my
               furnace
               ,
               and
               there
               see
            
             
               What
               it
               will
               prove
               ,
               what
               it
               is
               like
               to
               be
               .
            
             
               If
               it
               be
               gold
               ,
               it
               will
               be
               sure
            
             
               The
               hottest
               fire
               that
               can
               be
               to
               endure
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               shall
               draw
               it
               out
               more
               pure
               .
            
             
               Affliction
               may
               refine
               ,
               but
               cannot
               wast
               ,
            
             
               That
               heart
               wherein
               my
               love
               is
               fixed
               fast
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               22.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           sounding
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             JER.
             17.9
             .
          
           
             The
             heart
             is
             deceitfull
             above
             all
             things
             ,
             and
             desperatly
             wicked
             .
             Who
             can
             know
             it
             ?
             I
             the
             Lord
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 22.
                 
              
               
                 
                   I
                   ,
                
                 that
                 alone
                 am
                 infinite
                 ,
                 can
                 try
              
               
                 How
                 deep
                 within
                 it self
                 thine
                 heart
                 doth
                 lie
                 .
              
               
                 The
                 Sea-mans
                 plummet
                 can
                 but
                 reach
                 the
                 ground
                 :
              
               
                 I
                 find
                 that
                 which
                 thine
                 heart
                 it self
                 ne'er
                 sound
                 ,
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             22.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               A
               goodly
               heart
               to
               see
               to
               ,
               faire
               and
               fat
               !
            
             
               It
               may
               be
               so
               :
               and
               what
               of
               that
               ?
            
             
               Is
               it
               not
               hollow
               ?
               Hath
               it
               not
               within
            
             
               A
               bottomlesse
               whirlpoole
               of
               sinne
               ?
            
             
               Are
               there
               not
               secret
               creeks
               ,
               and
               cranies
               there
               ,
            
             
               Turning
               ,
               and
               winding
               corners
               ,
               where
            
             
               The
               heart
               it self
               ev'n
               from
               it self
               may
               hide
               ,
            
             
               And
               lurke
               in
               secret
               unespi'd
               ?
            
             
               I
               'll
               none
               of
               it
               ,
               if
               such
               a
               one
               it
               prove
               :
            
             
               Truth
               in
               the
               inward
               parts
               is
               that
               I
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               But
               who
               can
               tell
               what
               is
               within
               thine
               heart
               ?
            
             
               'T
               is
               not
               a
               worke
               of
               Nature
               ,
               Art
            
             
               Cannot
               performe
               that
               taske
               :
               't
               is
               I
               alone
               ,
            
             
               Not
               man
               ,
               to
               whom
               mans
               heart
               is
               knowne
               .
            
             
               Sound
               it
               thou
               maist
               ,
               and
               must
               :
               but
               then
               the
               line
            
             
             
               And
               plummet
               must
               be
               mine
               ,
               not
               thine
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               must
               guide
               it
               too
               ,
               thine
               hand
               ,
               and
               eye
            
             
               May
               quickly
               be
               deceiv'd
               :
               but
               I
               ,
            
             
               That
               made
               thine
               heart
               at
               first
               ,
               am
               better
               skill'd
            
             
               To
               know
               when
               it
               is
               empty
               ,
               when
               't
               is
               fill'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Lest
               then
               thou
               should'st
               deceive
               thy self
               ,
               for
               me
            
             
               Thou
               canst
               not
               ,
               I
               will
               let
               thee
               see
            
             
               Some
               of
               those
               depths
               of
               Satan
               ,
               depths
               of
               hell
               ,
            
             
               Wherewith
               thine
               hollow
               heart
               doth
               swell
               .
            
             
               Under
               pretence
               of
               knowledge
               in
               thy
               mind
            
             
               Errour
               and
               ignorance
               I
               find
               ,
            
             
               Quick-sands
               of
               rotten
               Superstition
            
             
               Spred
               over
               with
               misprision
               .
            
             
               Some
               thing
               thou
               knowest
               not
               ,
               misknowest
               others
               ,
            
             
               And
               oft
               thy
               conscience
               its
               owne
               knowledge
               smothers
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Thy
               crooked
               will
               ,
               that
               seemingly
               enclines
            
             
               To
               follow
               reasons
               dictates
               ,
               twines
            
             
               Another
               way
               in
               secret
               ,
               leaves
               its
               guide
            
             
               And
               laggs
               behind
               ,
               or
               swarves
               aside
               ,
            
             
               Crab-like
               creepes
               backward
               when
               it
               should
               have
               made
            
             
               Progresse
               in
               good
               ,
               is
               retrograde
               .
            
             
               Whilst
               it
               pretends
               a
               priviledge
               above
            
             
               Reasons
               prerogative
               ,
               to
               move
            
             
               As
               of
               it self
               unmov'd
               ,
               rude
               passions
               learne
            
             
               To
               leave
               the
               Oare
               ,
               and
               take
               in
               hand
               the
               Sterne
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               The
               tides
               of
               thine
               affections
               ebbe
               ,
               and
               flow
               ,
            
             
               Rise
               up
               aloft
               ,
               fall
               downe
               below
               ,
            
             
               Like
               to
               the
               suddaine
               land-flouds
               ,
               that
               advance
            
             
               Their
               swelling
               waters
               but
               by
               chance
               .
            
             
               Thy
               love
               ,
               desire
               ,
               thy
               hope
               ,
               delight
               ,
               and
               feare
               ,
            
             
               Ramble
               they
               care
               not
               when
               ,
               nor
               where
               ,
            
             
             
               Yet
               cunningly
               beare
               thee
               in
               hand
               they
               be
            
             
               Only
               directed
               unto
               me
               ,
            
             
               Or
               most
               to
               me
               ,
               and
               would
               no
               notice
               take
            
             
               Of
               other
               things
               ,
               but
               only
               for
               my
               sake
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Such
               strange
               prodigious
               impostures
               lurke
            
             
               In
               thy
               prestigious
               heart
               ,
               't
               is
               worke
            
             
               Enough
               for
               thee
               all
               thy
               life
               time
               to
               learne
            
             
               How
               thou
               may'st
               truly
               it
               discerne
               :
            
             
               That
               ,
               when
               upon
               mine
               altar
               thou
               dost
               lay
            
             
               Thine
               off'ring
               ,
               thou
               may'st
               sasely
               say
               ,
            
             
               And
               sweare
               it
               is
               an
               heart
               :
               for
               ,
               if
               it
               should
            
             
               Prove
               only
               an
               heart-case
               ,
               it
               would
            
             
               Nor
               pleasing
               be
               to
               me
               ,
               nor
               doe
               thee
               good
               .
            
             
               An
               heart
               's
               no
               heart
               not
               rightly
               understood
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               23.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           levelling
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL.
             97.11
             .
          
           
             Gladnesse
             to
             the
             upright
             in
             heart
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 23.
                 
              
               
                 SEt
                 thine
                 heare
                 upright
                 ,
                 if
                 thou
                 would'st
                 reioyce
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 please
                 thy self
                 in
                 thine
                 hearts
                 pleasing
                 cho●…se
                 :
              
               
                 But
                 then
                 be
                 sure
                 thy
                 plimme
                 ,
                 and
                 levell
                 be
              
               
                 Rightly
                 appli'd
                 to
                 that
                 which
                 pleaseth
                 me
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             23.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               yet
               I
               have
               not
               done
               :
               one
               triall
               more
            
             
               Thine
               heart
               must
               undergo
               ,
               before
            
             
               I
               will
               accept
               of
               it
               :
            
             
               Unlesse
               I
               see
            
             
               It
               upright
               be
               ,
            
             
               I
               cannot
               think
               it
               fit
            
             
               To
               be
               admitted
               in
               my
               sight
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               partake
               of
               mine
               eternall
               light
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               My
               Will's
               the
               rule
               of
               righteousnesse
               ,
               as
               free
            
             
               From
               errour
               as
               uncertainty
               :
            
             
               What
               I
               would
               have
               is
               just
               .
            
             
               Thou
               must
               desire
            
             
               What
               I
               require
               ,
            
             
               And
               take
               it
               upon
               trust
               :
            
             
               If
               thou
               preferre
               thy
               will
               to
               mine
               ,
            
             
               The
               levell's
               lost
               ,
               and
               thou
               go'st
               out
               of
               line
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Do'st
               thou
               not
               see
               how
               thine
               heart
               turnes
               aside
               ,
            
             
             
               And
               leanes
               toward
               thy self
               ?
               How
               wide
            
             
               A
               distance
               there
               is
               here
               ?
            
             
               Untill
               I
               see
            
             
               Both
               sides
               agree
            
             
               Alike
               with
               mine
               ,
               't
               is
               cleer
            
             
               The
               middle
               is
               not
               where
               't
               should
               be
               ,
            
             
               Likes
               something
               better
               ,
               though
               it
               looke
               at
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               I
               ,
               that
               know
               best
               how
               to
               dispose
               of
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Would
               have
               thy
               portion
               poverty
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               wealth
               should
               make
               thee
               proud
               ,
            
             
               And
               me
               forget
               :
            
             
               But
               thou
               hast
               set
            
             
               Thy
               voyce
               to
               cry
               aloud
            
             
               For
               riches
               ,
               and
               unlesse
               I
               grant
            
             
               All
               that
               thou
               wishest
               ,
               thou
               complain'st
               of
               want
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               I
               ,
               to
               preserve
               thine
               health
               ,
               would
               have
               thee
               fast
            
             
               From
               Natures
               dainties
               ,
               lest
               at
               last
            
             
               Thy
               senses
               sweet
               delight
            
             
               Should
               end
               in
               smart
               :
            
             
               But
               thy
               vaine
               heart
            
             
               Will
               have
               its
               appetite
            
             
               Pleased
               to
               day
               ,
               though
               grief
               ,
               and
               sorrow
            
             
               Threaten
               to
               cancell
               all
               thy
               joyes
               to
               morrow
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               I
               ,
               to
               prevent
               thine
               hurt
               by
               clining
               high
               ,
            
             
               Would
               have
               thee
               be
               content
               to
               lie
            
             
               Quiet
               and
               safe
               below
               ,
            
             
               Where
               peace
               doth
               dwell
               ;
            
             
               But
               thou
               dost
               swell
            
             
               With
               vast
               desires
               ,
               as
               though
            
             
               A
               little
               blast
               of
               vulgar
               breath
            
             
               Were
               better
               then
               deliverance
               from
               death
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               I
               ,
               to
               procure
               thine
               happinesse
               ,
               would
               have
            
             
               Thee
               mercy
               at
               mine
               hands
               to
               crave
               :
            
             
               But
               thou
               dost
               merit
               plead
               ,
            
             
               And
               wilt
               have
               none
            
             
               But
               of
               thine
               owne
               ,
            
             
               Till
               Justice
               strike
               thee
               dead
               .
            
             
               Thus
               still
               thy
               wand'ring
               wayes
               decline
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               thy
               crooked
               ●…
               go
               crosse
               to
               mine
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               24.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           renewing
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             EZEK.
             36.26
             .
          
           
             A
             new
             heart
             will
             I
             give
             you
             ,
             and
             a
             new
             spirit
             will
             I
             put
             within
             you
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 24.
                 
              
               
                 ARt
                 thou
                 delighted
                 with
                 strange
                 novelties
                 ,
              
               
                 Which
                 often
                 prove
                 but
                 old
                 fresh
                 garnisht
                 lies
                 ?
              
               
                 Leave
                 then
                 thine
                 old
                 ,
                 take
                 the
                 new
                 heart
                 I
                 give
                 thee
                 :
              
               
                 Condemne
                 thy self
                 ,
                 that
                 so
                 I
                 may
                 reprieve
                 thee
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             24.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               No
               ,
               no
               ,
               I
               see
            
             
               There
               is
               no
               remedy
               ,
            
             
               An
               heart
               ,
               that
               wants
               both
               weight
               ,
               and
               worth
               ,
            
             
               That
               's
               fill'd
               with
               naught
               but
               empty
               hollownesse
               ,
            
             
               And
               screw'd
               aside
               with
               stubborne
               wilfulnesse
               ,
            
             
               Is
               onely
               fit
               to
               be
               cast
               forth
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               to
               be
               given
               me
            
             
               Nor
               kept
               by
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Then
               let
               it
               goe
               ,
            
             
               And
               if
               thou
               wilt
               bestow
            
             
               An
               acceptable
               heart
               on
               me
               ,
            
             
               I
               'll
               furnish
               thee
               with
               one
               shall
               serve
               the
               turne
               ,
            
             
               Both
               to
               be
               kept
               ,
               and
               given
               :
               which
               will
               burne
            
             
               With
               zeale
               ,
               yet
               not
               consumed
               be
               :
            
             
               Nor
               with
               a
               scornfull
               eye
            
             
               Blast
               standers
               by
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               ,
               that
               I
            
             
               Will
               give
               thee
               ,
               though
               it
               lie
            
             
               Buri'd
               in
               seas
               of
               sorrowes
               ,
               yet
            
             
               Will
               not
               be
               drown'd
               with
               doubt
               ,
               or
               discontent
               ,
            
             
               Though
               sad
               complaints
               sometimes
               may
               give
               a
               vent
            
             
               To
               grief
               ,
               and
               teares
               the
               checks
               may
               wet
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               it
               exceeds
               their
               art
            
             
               To
               hurt
               this
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               The
               heart
               I
               give
               ,
            
             
               Though
               it
               desire
               to
               live
               ,
            
             
               And
               bath
               it self
               in
               all
               content
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               will
               not
               toyle
               ,
               or
               taint
               it self
               ,
               with
               any
               :
            
             
               Although
               it
               take
               a
               view
               ,
               and
               tast
               of
               many
               ,
            
             
               It
               feeds
               on
               few
               ,
               as
               though
               it
               meant
            
             
               To
               break
               fast
               only
               here
               ,
            
             
               And
               dine
               elsewhere
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               This
               heart
               is
               fresh
               ,
            
             
               And
               new
               :
               an
               heart
               of
               flesh
               ,
            
             
               Not
               ,
               as
               thine
               old
               one
               was
               ,
               of
               stone
               .
            
             
               A
               lively
               sp'ritly
               heart
               ,
               and
               moving
               still
               ,
            
             
               Active
               to
               what
               is
               good
               ,
               but
               slow
               to
               ill
               :
            
             
               An
               heart
               ,
               that
               with
               a
               sigh
               ,
               and
               grone
            
             
               Can
               blast
               all
               worldly
               joyes
               ,
            
             
               As
               trifling
               toyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               This
               heart
               is
               sound
               ,
            
             
               And
               solid
               will
               be
               found
               ;
            
             
               'T
               is
               not
               an
               empty
               ayrie
               flash
               ,
            
             
               That
               baites
               at
               Butterflies
               ,
               and
               with
               full
               cry
            
             
               Opens
               at
               ev'ry
               flirting
               vanity
               .
            
             
               It
               sleights
               ,
               and
               scornes
               such
               paltry
               trash
               :
            
             
             
               But
               for
               eternity
            
             
               Dares
               live
               ,
               or
               die
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               I
               know
               thy
               mind
               :
            
             
               Thou
               seek'st
               content
               to
               find
            
             
               In
               such
               things
               as
               are
               new
               ,
               and
               strange
               .
            
             
               Wander
               no
               further
               then
               :
               lay
               by
               thine
               old
               ,
            
             
               Take
               the
               new
               heart
               I
               give
               thee
               ,
               and
               be
               bold
            
             
               To
               boast
               thy self
               of
               the
               exchange
               ,
            
             
               And
               say
               ,
               that
               a
               new
               heart
            
             
               Exceeds
               all
               art
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               25.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           enlightening
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL.
             34.5
             .
          
           
             They
             looked
             unto
             him
             ,
             and
             were
             lightened
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 25.
                 
              
               
                 THou
                 that
                 art
                 Light
                 of
                 lights
                 ,
                 the
                 onely
                 sight
              
               
                 Of
                 the
                 blind
                 world
                 ,
                 lend
                 me
                 thy
                 saving
                 light
                 :
              
               
                 Disperse
                 those
                 mists
                 ,
                 which
                 in
                 my
                 soule
                 have
                 made
              
               
                 Darkenesse
                 as
                 deepe
                 as
                 hells
                 eternall
                 shade
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             25.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Alas
               ,
               that
               I
            
             
               Could
               not
               before
               espie
            
             
               The
               soule-confounding
               misery
            
             
               Of
               this
               ,
               more
               then
               Egyptian
               ,
               dreadfull
               night
               !
            
             
               To
               be
               deprived
               of
               the
               light
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               have
               eyes
               ,
               but
               eyes
               devoid
               of
               sight
               ,
            
             
               As
               mine
               have
               been
               ,
               is
               such
               a
               woe
               ,
            
             
               As
               he
               alone
               can
               know
               ,
            
             
               That
               feeles
               it
               so
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Darknesse
               hath
               been
            
             
               My
               God
               and
               me
               between
            
             
               Like
               an
               opacous
               doubled
               skreen
               ,
            
             
               Through
               which
               nor
               light
               ,
               nor
               heat
               could
               passage
               sind
               .
            
             
               Grosse
               ignorance
               hath
               made
               my
               mind
               ,
            
             
               And
               understanding
               not
               bleer-ey'd
               ,
               but
               blind
               ;
            
             
               My
               will
               to
               all
               that
               's
               good
               is
               cold
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               can
               I
               ,
               though
               I
               would
               ,
            
             
               Doe
               what
               I
               should
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               No
               ,
               now
               I
               see
            
             
               There
               is
               no
               remedy
            
             
               Lest
               in
               my self
               :
               it
               cannot
               be
            
             
               That
               blind
               men
               in
               the
               darke
               should
               find
               the
               way
            
             
               To
               blessednesse
               :
               although
               they
               may
            
             
               Imagine
               that
               high
               midnight
               is
               noone-day
               ,
            
             
               As
               I
               have
               done
               till
               now
               ,
               they
               'll
               know
            
             
               At
               last
               unto
               their
               woe
               ,
            
             
               'T
               was
               nothing
               so
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Now
               I
               perceive
            
             
               Presumption
               doth
               bereave
            
             
               Men
               of
               all
               hope
               of
               helpe
               ,
               and
               leave
            
             
               Them
               ,
               as
               it
               finds
               them
               ,
               drown'd
               in
               misery
               :
            
             
               Despairing
               of
               themselves
               ,
               to
               cry
            
             
               For
               mercy
               is
               the
               only
               remedy
            
             
               That
               sinne-sicke
               soules
               can
               have
               :
               to
               pray
            
             
               Against
               this
               darknesse
               may
            
             
               Turne
               it
               to
               day
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Then
               unto
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Great
               Lord
               of
               light
               ,
               let
               me
            
             
               Direct
               my
               prayer
               ,
               that
               I
               may
               see
               .
            
             
               Thou
               ,
               that
               did'st
               make
               mine
               eyes
               ,
               canst
               soone
               restore
            
             
               That
               pow'r
               of
               fight
               they
               had
               before
               ,
            
             
               And
               ,
               if
               thou
               seest
               it
               good
               ,
               canst
               give
               them
               more
               .
            
             
               The
               night
               will
               quickly
               shine
               like
               day
               ,
            
             
               If
               thou
               doe
               but
               display
            
             
               One
               glorious
               ray
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               I
               must
               confesse
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               can
               doe
               no
               lesse
               ,
            
             
             
               Thou
               art
               the
               Sun
               of
               righteousnesse
               :
            
             
               There
               's
               healing
               in
               thy
               wings
               :
               thy
               light
               is
               life
               ;
            
             
               My
               darkenesse
               death
               .
               To
               end
               all
               ●…rise
               ,
            
             
               Be
               thou
               mine
               husband
               ,
               let
               me
               be
               thy
               wife
               .
            
             
               Then
               both
               the
               light
               ,
               and
               life
               that
               's
               thine
               ,
            
             
               Though
               light
               ,
               and
               life
               divine
               ,
            
             
               Will
               all
               be
               mine
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               26
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           table
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             IER.
             31.33
             .
          
           
             I
             will
             put
             my
             Law
             in
             their
             inward
             parts
             ,
             and
             write
             it
             in
             their
             hearts
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 26.
                 
              
               
                 IN
                 the
                 soft
                 table
                 of
                 thine
                 heart
                 I
                 'll
                 write
              
               
                 A
                 new
                 Law
                 ,
                 which
                 I
                 newly
                 will
                 ind
                 te
                 .
              
               
                 Hard
                 stony
                 tables
                 did
                 containe
                 the
                 old
                 :
              
               
                 But
                 tender
                 leaves
                 of
                 flesh
                 shall
                 this
                 infold
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             26.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               What
               will
               thy
               fight
            
             
               Availe
               thee
               ,
               or
               my
               light
               ,
            
             
               If
               there
               be
               nothing
               in
               thine
               heart
               to
               see
            
             
               Acceptable
               to
               me
               ?
            
             
               A
               self-writ
               heart
               will
               not
            
             
               Please
               me
               ,
               or
               doe
               thee
               any
               good
               ,
               I
               wot
               ,
            
             
               The
               paper
               must
               be
               thine
               ,
            
             
               The
               writing
               mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               What
               I
               indite
            
             
               'T
               is
               I
               alone
               can
               write
               ,
            
             
               And
               write
               in
               bookes
               that
               I
               my self
               have
               made
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               not
               an
               easie
               trade
            
             
               To
               read
               or
               write
               ,
               in
               hearts
               :
            
             
               They
               that
               are
               skilfull
               in
               all
               other
               arts
               ,
            
             
               When
               they
               take
               this
               in
               hand
               ,
            
             
               Are
               at
               a
               stand
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               My
               Law
               of
               old
            
             
               Tables
               of
               stone
               did
               hold
               ,
            
             
               Wherein
               I
               writ
               what
               I
               before
               had
               spoken
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               were
               they
               quickly
               broken
               :
            
             
               A
               signe
               the
               Covenant
            
             
               Contain'd
               in
               them
               would
               due
               ob●…ervance
               want
               .
            
             
               Nor
               did
               they
               long
               remaine
            
             
               Coppy'd
               again
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               I
               'll
               try
            
             
               What
               force
               in
               flesh
               doth
               lie
               :
            
             
               Whether
               thine
               heart
               renew'd
               afford
               a
               place
            
             
               Fit
               for
               my
               Law
               of
               grace
               .
            
             
               This
               covenant
               is
               better
            
             
               Then
               that
               ,
               though
               glorious
               ,
               of
               the
               killing
               letter
               .
            
             
               This
               gives
               life
               ,
               not
               by
               merit
               ,
            
             
               But
               by
               my
               Spirit
               ,
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               When
               in
               mens
               hearts
               ,
            
             
               And
               their
               most
               inward
               parts
               ,
            
             
               I
               by
               my
               Spirit
               write
               my
               Law
               of
               love
               ,
            
             
               They
               then
               begin
               to
               move
               ,
            
             
               Not
               by
               themselves
               ,
               but
               me
               ,
            
             
               And
               their
               obedience
               is
               their
               liberty
               .
            
             
               There
               are
               no
               slaves
               ,
               but
               those
            
             
               That
               serve
               their
               foes
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               When
               I
               have
               writ
            
             
               My
               Covenant
               in
               it
               ,
            
             
               View
               thine
               heart
               by
               my
               light
               ,
               and
               thou
               shalt
               fee
            
             
               A
               present
               fit
               for
               me
               .
            
             
               The
               worth
               for
               which
               I
               look
               ,
            
             
             
               Lies
               in
               the
               lines
               ,
               not
               in
               the
               leaves
               of
               th
               book
               .
            
             
               Course
               paper
               may
               be
               lin'd
            
             
               With
               words
               refin'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               And
               such
               are
               mine
               .
            
             
               No
               furnace
               can
               resine
            
             
               The
               choisest
               silver
               so
               to
               make
               it
               pure
               ,
            
             
               As
               my
               Law
               put
               in
               ●…
            
             
               Purgeth
               the
               hearts
               of
               men
               :
            
             
               Which
               being
               rul'd
               ,
               and
               written
               with
               my
               Pen
               ,
            
             
               My
               Spirit
               ,
               ev'ry
               letter
            
             
               Will
               make
               them
               better
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               27.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           tilling
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             EZEK.
             36.9
             .
          
           
             I
             will
             turne
             unto
             you
             ,
             and
             yee
             shall
             be
             tilled
             ,
             and
             sowne
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 27.
                 
              
               
                 MIne
                 heart
                 's
                 a
                 field
                 ,
                 thy
                 crosse
                 a
                 plow
                 :
                 be
                 pleas'd
              
               
                 Dear
                 Spouse
                 ,
                 to
                 till
                 it
                 ,
                 till
                 the
                 mould
                 be
                 rais'd
              
               
                 Fit
                 for
                 the
                 seeding
                 of
                 thy
                 Word
                 :
                 then
                 sow
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 if
                 thou
                 shine
                 upon
                 it
                 ,
                 it
                 will
                 grow
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             27.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               So
               ,
               now
               me thinks
               I
               find
            
             
               Some
               better
               vigour
               in
               my
               mind
               ,
            
             
               My
               will
               begins
               to
               move
               ,
            
             
               And
               mine
               affections
               stirre
               towards
               things
               above
               :
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               growes
               bigge
               with
               hope
               it
               is
               a
               field
               ,
            
             
               That
               some
               good
               fruit
               may
               yeeld
               ,
            
             
               If
               it
               were
               till'd
               ,
               as
               it
               should
               be
               ,
            
             
               Not
               by
               my self
               ,
               but
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Great
               Husbandman
               ,
               whose
               pow'r
            
             
               All
               difficulties
               can
               devour
               ,
            
             
               And
               doe
               what
               likes
               thee
               best
               ,
            
             
               Let
               not
               thy
               field
               ,
               mine
               heart
               ,
               lie
               lay
               ,
               and
               rest
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               it
               be
               over-runne
               with
               noysome
               weeds
               ,
            
             
               That
               spring
               of
               their
               own
               seeds
               :
            
             
               Unlesse
               thy
               grace
               the
               growth
               should
               stoppe
               ,
            
             
               Sinne
               would
               be
               all
               my
               croppe
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Break
               up
               my
               fallow
               ground
               ,
            
             
               That
               there
               may
               not
               a
               clod
               be
               found
            
             
               To
               hide
               one
               root
               of
               finne
               .
            
             
               Apply
               thy
               plow
               betime
               :
               now
               ,
               now
               beginne
            
             
               To
               furrow
               up
               my
               stiffe
               ,
               and
               starvy
               heart
               ,
            
             
               No
               matter
               for
               the
               smart
               ,
            
             
               Al
               though
               it
               roare
               ,
               when
               it
               is
               rent
               ,
            
             
               Let
               not
               thine
               hand
               relent
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Corruption
               's
               rooted
               deep
               ,
            
             
               Showres
               of
               repentaut
               teares
               must
               steep
            
             
               The
               mould
               to
               make
               it
               soft
               :
            
             
               It
               must
               be
               stirr'd
               ,
               and
               turn'd
               ,
               not
               once
               ,
               but
               oft
               .
            
             
               Let
               it
               have
               all
               its
               feasons
               .
               O
               impart
            
             
               The
               best
               of
               all
               thine
               art
               .
            
             
               For
               ,
               of
               it self
               it
               is
               so
               tough
               ,
            
             
               All
               will
               be
               but
               enough
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Or
               ,
               if
               it
               be
               thy
               will
            
             
               To
               teach
               me
               ,
               let
               me
               learne
               the
               skill
            
             
               My self
               to
               plow
               mine
               heart
               :
            
             
               The
               profit
               will
               be
               mine
               ,
               and
               't
               is
               my
               part
            
             
               To
               take
               the
               paines
               ,
               and
               labour
               ,
               though
               th'
               encrease
            
             
               Without
               thy
               blessing
               cease
               :
            
             
               If
               fit
               for
               nothing
               else
               ,
               yet
               thou
            
             
               May'st
               make
               me
               draw
               thy
               Plow
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Which
               of
               thy
               Plowes
               thou
               wilt
               ,
            
             
               For
               then
               hast
               more
               then
               one
               .
               My
               guilt
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               wrath
               ,
               thy
               rods
               ,
               are
               all
            
             
               ●…
               fit
               to
               ●…
               mine
               heart
               to
               pieces
               small
               :
            
             
               And
               ,
               when
               in
               ●…●…
               prehends
               thee
               neer
               ,
            
             
             
               'T
               is
               furrowed
               with
               fear
               :
            
             
               Each
               weed
               turn'd
               under
               hides
               its
               head
               ,
            
             
               And
               shewes
               as
               it
               were
               dead
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               But
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               thy
               blessed
               passion
            
             
               Is
               a
               Plow
               of
               another
               fashion
               ,
            
             
               Better
               then
               all
               the
               rest
               .
            
             
               Oh
               fasten
               me
               to
               that
               ,
               and
               let
               the
               best
            
             
               Of
               all
               my
               powers
               strive
               to
               draw
               it
               in
               ,
            
             
               And
               leave
               no
               roome
               for
               finne
               .
            
             
               The
               vertue
               of
               thy
               death
               can
               make
            
             
               Sinne
               its
               fast
               hold
               forsake
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               28.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           seeding
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             LVKE
             8.15
             .
          
           
             That
             on
             the
             good
             ground
             are
             they
             ,
             which
             with
             an
             honest
             ,
             and
             good
             heart
             ,
             having
             heard
             the
             Word
             ,
             keep
             it
             ,
             and
             bring
             forth
             fruit
             with
             patience
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 28.
                 
              
               
                 Lest
                 the
                 field
                 of
                 mine
                 heart
                 should
                 unto
                 thee
                 ,
              
               
                 Great
                 Husbandman
                 that
                 mad'st
                 it
                 ,
                 barren
                 be
                 ,
              
               
                 Manure
                 the
                 ground
                 ,
                 then
                 come
                 thy self
                 and
                 seed
                 it
                 ;
              
               
                 And
                 let
                 thy
                 servants
                 water
                 it
                 ,
                 and
                 weed
                 it
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             28.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               blessed
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Unlesse
               thou
               wilt
               afford
            
             
               Manure
               ,
               as
               well
               as
               tillage
               ,
               to
               thy
               field
               ,
            
             
               It
               will
               not
               yeeld
            
             
               That
               fruit
               which
               thou
               expectest
               it
               should
               beare
               :
            
             
               The
               ground
               I
               feare
            
             
               Will
               still
               remaine
            
             
               Barren
               of
               what
               is
               good
               :
               and
               all
               the
               graine
            
             
               It
               will
               bring
               forth
               ,
            
             
               As
               of
               its
               owne
               accord
               ,
               will
               not
               be
               worth
            
             
               The
               paines
               of
               gathering
            
             
               So
               poore
               a
               thing
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Some
               faint
               desire
               ,
            
             
             
               That
               quickly
               will
               expire
               ,
            
             
               Wither
               ,
               and
               die
               ,
               is
               all
               thou
               canst
               expect
               .
            
             
               It
               thou
               neglect
            
             
               To
               sow
               it
               now
               't
               is
               ready
               ,
               thou
               ●…
               find
            
             
               That
               ●…●…●…
               ,
            
             
               And
               ●…
               grow
            
             
               Then
               at
               the
               first
               it
               was
               .
               Thou
               must
               bestow
            
             
               Some
               further
               cost
               ,
            
             
               Else
               all
               thy
               former
               labour
               will
               be
               lost
               .
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               no
               corne
               will
               breed
            
             
               Without
               thy
               seed
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Thy
               Word
               is
               seed
               ,
            
             
               And
               manure
               too
               :
               will
               seed
               ,
            
             
               As
               well
               as
               fill
               mine
               heart
               .
               If
               once
               it
               were
            
             
               Well
               rooted
               there
               ,
            
             
               It
               would
               come
               on
               apace
               :
               O
               then
               neglect
            
             
               No
               time
               expect
            
             
               No
               better
               season
               .
            
             
               Now
               ,
               now
               thy
               field
               mine
               heart
               is
               ready
               :
               reason
            
             
               Surrenders
               now
               ,
            
             
               Now
               my
               rebellious
               will
               begins
               to
               bow
               ,
            
             
               And
               mine
               affections
               are
            
             
               Tamer
               by
               farre
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               have
               laine
            
             
               Barren
               too
               long
               ,
               and
               saine
            
             
               I
               would
               redeem
               the
               time
               ,
               that
               I
               may
               be
            
             
               Fruitfull
               to
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Fruitfull
               in
               knowledge
               ,
               saith
               ,
               obedience
               ,
            
             
               Ere
               I
               goe
               hence
               :
            
             
               That
               when
               I
               come
            
             
               At
               harvest
               to
               be
               reaped
               ,
               and
               brought
               home
               ;
            
             
               Thine
               Angels
               may
            
             
             
               My
               soule
               in
               thy
               celestiall
               garner
               lay
               ,
            
             
               Where
               perfect
               joy
               ,
               and
               blisse
            
             
               Eternall
               is
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               If
               ,
               to
               intreat
            
             
               A
               crop
               of
               purest
               wheat
               ,
            
             
               A
               blessing
               too
               transcendent
               should
               appeare
            
             
               For
               me
               to
               beare
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               make
               me
               what
               thou
               wilt
               ,
               so
               thou
               wilt
               take
            
             
               What
               thou
               do st
               make
               ,
            
             
               And
               not
               disdaine
            
             
               To
               house
               me
               ,
               though
               amongst
               thy
               coursest
               graine
               ,
            
             
               So
               I
               may
               be
            
             
               Laid
               with
               the
               gleanings
               gathered
               by
               thee
               ,
            
             
               When
               the
               full
               sheaves
               are
               spent
               ,
            
             
               I
               am
               content
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               29.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           watering
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             ISA.
             27.3
             .
          
           
             I
             the
             Lord
             doe
             keep
             it
             .
             I
             will
             water
             it
             every
             moment
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 29.
                 
              
               
                 CLose
                 downwards
                 tow'rds
                 the
                 earth
                 ,
                 open
                 above
              
               
                 Tow'rds
                 heaven
                 mine
                 heart
                 is
                 .
                 O
                 let
                 thy
                 love
              
               
                 Distill
                 in
                 fructifying
                 dewes
                 of
                 grace
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 then
                 mine
                 heart
                 will
                 be
                 a
                 pleasant
                 place
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             29.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               See
               how
               this
               dry
               ,
               and
               thirsty
               land
               ,
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               ,
               doth
               gaping
               gasping
               stand
               ,
            
             
               And
               close
               below
               opens
               towards
               heav'n
               ,
               and
               thee
            
             
               Thou
               fountaine
               of
               felicity
               ,
            
             
               Great
               Lord
               of
               living
               waters
               ,
               water
               me
               :
            
             
               Let
               not
               my
               breath
               that
               pants
               with
               paine
               ,
            
             
               Waste
               ,
               and
               consume
               it selfe
               in
               vaine
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               The
               mists
               ,
               that
               from
               the
               earth
               doe
               rise
               ,
            
             
               An
               heav'n-borne
               heart
               will
               not
               suffice
               :
            
             
               Coole
               it
               without
               they
               may
               ,
               but
               cannot
               quench
            
             
               The
               scalding
               heat
               within
               ,
               nor
               drench
            
             
               Its
               dusty
               dry
               desires
               ,
               or
               fill
               one
               trench
               .
            
             
               Nothing
               ,
               but
               what
               comes
               from
               on
               high
               ,
            
             
               Can
               heav'n-bred
               longings
               satisfie
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               See
               how
               the
               seed
               ,
               which
               thou
               did'st
               sow
            
             
             
               Lies
               parch'd
               ,
               and
               wither'd
               ,
               will
               not
               grow
            
             
               Without
               some
               moisture
               ,
               and
               mine
               heart
               hath
               none
               ,
            
             
               That
               it
               can
               truly
               call
               its
               owne
               ,
            
             
               By
               nature
               of
               it self
               ,
               more
               then
               a
               stone
               :
            
             
               Unlesse
               thou
               water't
               ,
               it
               will
               lie
            
             
               Drowned
               in
               dust
               ,
               and
               still
               be
               dry
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Thy
               tender
               plants
               can
               never
               thrive
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               want
               of
               water
               doth
               deprive
            
             
               Their
               roots
               of
               nourishment
               :
               which
               makes
               them
               call
               ,
            
             
               And
               cry
               to
               thee
               ,
               great
               All
               in
               All
               ,
            
             
               That
               seasonable
               show'rs
               of
               grace
               may
               fall
               ,
            
             
               And
               water
               them
               :
               thy
               Word
               will
               do
               't
               ,
            
             
               If
               thou
               vouchsafe
               thy
               blessing
               to
               't
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               O
               then
               be
               pleased
               to
               unseal
            
             
               Thy
               fountaine
               ,
               blessed
               Saviour
               ,
               deal
            
             
               Some
               drops
               at
               least
               ,
               wherewith
               my
               drooping
               spirits
            
             
               May
               be
               revived
               .
               Lord
               ,
               thy
               merits
            
             
               Yeeld
               more
               refreshing
               then
               the
               world
               inherits
               :
            
             
               Rivers
               ,
               yea
               seas
               ,
               but
               ditches
               are
               ,
            
             
               If
               with
               thy
               springs
               we
               them
               compare
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               If
               not
               whole
               show'rs
               of
               raine
               ,
               yet
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               A
               little
               pearly
               dew
               afford
               ,
            
             
               Begot
               by
               thy
               celestiall
               influence
            
             
               On
               some
               chast
               vapour
               ,
               raised
               hence
            
             
               To
               be
               partaker
               of
               thine
               excellence
               :
            
             
               A
               little
               ,
               if
               it
               come
               from
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Will
               be
               of
               great
               availe
               to
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Thou
               boundlesse
               Ocean
               of
               grace
               ,
            
             
               Let
               thy
               free
               spirit
               have
               a
               place
            
             
               Within
               mine
               heart
               :
               full
               rivers
               then
               I
               know
            
             
             
               Of
               living
               waters
               forth
               will
               flow
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               thy
               plants
               ,
               thy
               fruits
               ,
               and
               flow'rs
               will
               grow
               .
            
             
               Whilst
               thy
               Springs
               their
               roots
               doe
               nourish
               ,
            
             
               They
               must
               needs
               be
               fat
               ,
               and
               flourish
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               30.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           flowers
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             CANT.
             6.
             2.
             
          
           
             My
             beloved
             is
             gone
             downe
             into
             his
             garden
             ,
             to
             the
             beds
             of
             spices
             ,
             to
             feed
             in
             the
             gardens
             ,
             and
             to
             gather
             lillies
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 30.
                 
              
               
                 THese
                 lillies
                 I
                 doe
                 consecrate
                 to
                 thee
                 ,
              
               
                 Beloved
                 Spouse
                 ,
                 which
                 spring
                 as
                 thou
                 ma●…st
                 see
                 ,
              
               
                 Out
                 of
                 the
                 seed
                 thou
                 sowedst
                 ,
                 and
                 the
                 ground
              
               
                 Is
                 better'd
                 by
                 thy
                 Flow'rs
                 ,
                 when
                 they
                 abound
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             31.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Is
               there
               a
               joy
               like
               this
               ?
            
             
               What
               can
               augment
               my
               blisse
               ?
            
             
               If
               my
               beloved
               will
               accept
            
             
               A
               po●…e
               of
               these
               flowers
               kept
               ,
            
             
               And
               consecrated
               unto
               his
               content
               ,
            
             
               I
               hope
               hereafter
               he
               will
               not
               repent
            
             
               The
               cost
               ,
               and
               paines
               he
               hath
               bestow'd
            
             
               So
               freely
               upon
               me
               ,
               that
               ow'd
            
             
               Him
               all
               I
               had
               before
               ,
            
             
               And
               infinitly
               more
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               try
               them
               ,
               blessed
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Take
               them
               not
               on
               my
               word
               ,
            
             
               But
               let
               the
               colour
               ,
               ●…ast
               and
               ●…
            
             
               The
               truth
               of
               their
               ●…●…
               tell
               .
            
             
               Thou
               that
               art
               in●…nite
               in
               wisdome
               ●…ee
            
             
             
               If
               they
               be
               not
               the
               same
               that
               came
               from
               thee
               .
            
             
               If
               any
               difference
               be
               found
               ,
            
             
               It
               is
               occasion'd
               by
               the
               ground
               ,
            
             
               Which
               yet
               I
               cannot
               see
            
             
               So
               good
               as
               it
               should
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               What
               say'st
               thou
               to
               that
               Rose
               ,
            
             
               That
               queen
               of
               flowers
               ,
               whose
            
             
               Maidenly
               blushes
               ,
               fresh
               ,
               and
               faire
               ,
            
             
               Out-brave
               the
               dainty
               morning
               aire
               ?
            
             
               Dost
               thou
               not
               in
               those
               lovely
               leaves
               espy
            
             
               The
               perfect
               picture
               of
               that
               modesty
               ,
            
             
               That
               self-condemning
               shamefastnesse
               ,
            
             
               That
               is
               more
               ready
               to
               confesse
            
             
               A
               fault
               ,
               and
               to
               amend
               ,
            
             
               Then
               it
               is
               to
               offend
               ?
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Is
               not
               this
               Lilly
               pure
               ?
            
             
               What
               Fuller
               can
               procure
            
             
               A
               white
               so
               perfect
               ,
               spotlesse
               ,
               clear
               ,
            
             
               As
               in
               this
               flower
               doth
               appear
               ?
            
             
               Do st
               thou
               not
               in
               this
               milky
               colour
               see
            
             
               The
               lively
               lustre
               of
               sincerity
               ,
            
             
               Which
               no
               hypocrisie
               hath
               painted
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               self-respecting
               ends
               have
               tainted
               ?
            
             
               Can
               there
               be
               to
               thy
               sight
            
             
               A
               more
               entire
               delight
               ?
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Or
               wilt
               thou
               have
               beside
            
             
               Violets
               purple-di'd
               ?
            
             
               The
               Sun-observing
               Marigold
               ,
            
             
               Or
               Orpin
               never
               waxing
               old
               ,
            
             
               The
               Primrose
               ,
               Cowslip
               ,
               Gilliflow'r
               ,
               or
               Pinke
               ,
            
             
               Or
               any
               flow'r
               ,
               or
               herbe
               ,
               that
               I
               can
               think
            
             
             
               Thou
               hast
               a
               mind
               unto
               ?
               I
               shall
            
             
               Quickly
               be
               furnisht
               with
               them
               all
               ,
            
             
               If
               once
               I
               doe
               but
               know
            
             
               That
               thou
               wilt
               have
               it
               so
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Faith
               is
               a
               fruitfull
               grace
               ,
            
             
               Well
               planted
               stores
               the
               place
               ,
            
             
               Fills
               all
               the
               borders
               ,
               beds
               ,
               and
               bow'rs
            
             
               With
               wholsome
               herbs
               ,
               and
               pleasant
               flow'rs
               .
            
             
               Great
               Gardiner
               ,
               thou
               saist
               ,
               and
               I
               beleeve
               ,
            
             
               What
               thou
               do'st
               meane
               to
               gather
               thou
               wilt
               give
               .
            
             
               Take
               then
               mine
               heart
               in
               hand
               to
               fill
               't
               ,
            
             
               And
               it
               shall
               yeeld
               thee
               what
               thou
               wilt
               .
            
             
               Yea
               thou
               ,
               by
               gath'ring
               more
               ,
            
             
               Shalt
               still
               increase
               my
               store
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               31.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           keeping
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PROV.
             4.23
             .
          
           
             Keepe
             thy
             heart
             with
             all
             diligence
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 31.
                 
              
               
                 Like
                 to
                 a
                 ●…
                 ,
                 that
                 is
                 ●…
                 ,
              
               
                 ●…
                 heart
                 is
                 ●…
                 ,
                 ●…
                 still
                 is
                 found
              
               
                 Comp●…st
                 w●…th
                 care
                 ,
                 ●…nd
                 ●…
                 with
                 the
                 feare
              
               
                 Of
                 God
                 ,
                 as
                 with
                 a
                 flaming
                 sword
                 ,
                 and
                 speare
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             31.
             
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               wilt
               thou
               suffer
               this
               ?
               Shall
               vermine
               spoile
            
             
               The
               ●…uit
               or
               all
               thy
               toyle
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               trees
               ,
               thine
               herbs
               ,
               thy
               plants
               ,
               thy
               flow'rs
               thus
               :
            
             
               And
               for
               an
               overplus
            
             
               Of
               spite
               ,
               and
               malice
               overthrow
               thy
               mounds
               ,
            
             
               Lay
               common
               all
               thy
               grounds
               ?
            
             
               Canst
               thou
               endure
               thy
               pleasant
               garden
               should
            
             
               Be
               thus
               turn'd
               up
               as
               ordinary
               mould
               ?
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               What
               is
               the
               matter
               ?
               why
               do'st
               thou
               complaine
               ?
            
             
               Must
               I
               as
               well
               maintaine
               ,
            
             
               And
               keep
               ,
               as
               make
               thy
               fences
               ?
               wilt
               thou
               take
            
             
               No
               paines
               for
               thine
               own
               sake
               ?
            
             
               Or
               doth
               thy self-confounding
               fancy
               feare
               thee
               ,
            
             
               When
               there
               's
               no
               danger
               neer
               thee
               ?
            
             
               Speak
               out
               thy
               doubts
               ,
               and
               thy
               desires
               ,
               and
               tell
               me
               ,
            
             
               What
               enemy
               or
               can
               ,
               or
               dares
               to
               quell
               thee
               ?
            
          
           
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Many
               ,
               and
               mighty
               ,
               and
               malicious
               ,
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               That
               seek
               ,
               with
               one
               accord
               ,
            
             
               To
               work
               my
               speedy
               ruine
               ,
               and
               make
               haste
            
             
               To
               lay
               thy
               garden
               waste
               .
            
             
               The
               devill
               is
               a
               ramping
               roaring
               lion
               ,
            
             
               Hates
               at
               his
               heart
               thy
               Zion
               ,
            
             
               And
               never
               gives
               it
               respit
               day
               ,
               nor
               houre
               ,
            
             
               But
               still
               goes
               seeking
               whom
               he
               may
               devoure
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               The
               world
               's
               a
               wildernesse
               ,
               wherein
               I
               find
            
             
               Wild
               beasts
               of
               ev'ry
               kind
               ,
            
             
               Foxes
               ,
               and
               Wolves
               ,
               and
               Dogs
               ,
               and
               Boares
               ,
               and
               Bears
               ;
            
             
               And
               which
               augments
               my
               feares
               ,
            
             
               Eagles
               and
               Vultures
               ,
               and
               such
               birds
               of
               prey
               ,
            
             
               Will
               not
               be
               kept
               away
               :
            
             
               Besides
               the
               light-abhorring
               Owles
               ,
               and
               Bats
               ,
            
             
               And
               secret
               corner-creeping
               Mice
               and
               Rats
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               But
               these
               ,
               and
               many
               more
               would
               not
               dismay
            
             
               Me
               much
               ,
               unlesse
               there
               lay
            
             
               One
               worse
               then
               all
               within
               ,
               my self
               I
               meane
               ,
            
             
               My
               false
               ,
               unjust
               ,
               unclean
               ,
            
             
               Faithlesse
               ,
               disloyall
               self
               ,
               that
               both
               entice
               ,
            
             
               And
               entertaine
               each
               vice
               .
            
             
               This
               homebred
               traiterous
               partaking
               's
               worse
               ,
            
             
               Then
               all
               the
               violence
               of
               forain
               force
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               maist
               see
               my
               feares
               are
               grounded
               ,
               rise
            
             
               Not
               from
               a
               bare
               surmise
               ,
            
             
               Or
               doubt
               of
               danger
               only
               ,
               my
               desires
            
             
               Are
               but
               what
               need
               requires
               ,
            
             
               Of
               thy
               divine
               protection
               ,
               and
               defence
            
             
               To
               keep
               these
               vermine
               hence
               :
            
             
             
               Which
               ,
               if
               they
               should
               not
               be
               re●…rain'd
               by
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Would
               grow
               too
               strong
               to
               be
               kept
               out
               by
               me
               .
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Thy
               feare
               is
               just
               ,
               and
               I
               approve
               thy
               care
               .
            
             
               But
               yet
               thy
               comforts
               are
            
             
               ●…
               for
               ,
               ●…
               in
               that
               care
               ,
               and
               feare
               :
            
             
               Whereby
               it
               d●…th
               appeare
            
             
               ●…●…
               what
               then
               ●…
               ,
               my
               protection
            
             
               To
               keep
               thee
               from
               defection
               .
            
             
               The
               ●…●…
               cares
               ,
               and
               ●…
               ,
               is
               kept
               by
               me
               .
            
             
               I
               watch
               thee
               ,
               whilst
               thy
               foes
               are
               watch'd
               by
               thee
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               32.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           watching
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             CANT.
             5.2
             .
          
           
             I
             sleep
             ,
             but
             my
             heart
             waketh
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 32.
                 
              
               
                 WHilst
                 the
                 soft
                 hands
                 of
                 sleep
                 tie
                 up
                 my
                 sences
                 ,
              
               
                 My
                 watchfull
                 heart
                 ,
                 free
                 from
                 all
                 such
                 ●…
                 ,
              
               
                 Searches
                 for
                 thee
                 ,
                 enquires
                 es
                 all
                 about
                 thee
                 ,
              
               
                 Nor
                 day
                 ,
                 nor
                 night
                 ,
                 able
                 to
                 be
                 without
                 thee
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             32.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               It
               must
               be
               so
               :
               that
               God
               that
               gave
            
             
               Me
               senses
               ,
               and
               a
               mind
               ,
               would
               have
            
             
               Me
               use
               them
               both
               ,
               but
               in
               their
               severall
               kinds
               .
            
             
               Sleep
               must
               refresh
               my
               senses
               ,
               but
               my
               minds
            
             
               A
               ●…
               of
               heav'nly
               fire
               ,
               that
               seeds
            
             
               On
               ●…
               ,
               and
               employment
               ,
               needs
            
             
               No
               ●…
               or
               rest
               :
               for
               ,
               when
               it
               thinks
               to
               please
            
             
               ●…
               with
               idlenesse
               ,
               't
               is
               least
               at
               ease
               .
            
             
               Though
               quiet
               rest
               refresh
               the
               head
               ,
            
             
               The
               heart
               that
               stirres
               not
               sure
               is
               dead
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               then
               my
               body
               ease
               doth
               take
               ,
            
             
               My
               ●…
               refusing
               heart
               ●…
               all
               wake
               :
            
             
               And
               that
               mine
               heart
               the
               better
               watch
               may
               keep
               ,
            
             
               I
               'll
               lay
               my
               senses
               for
               a
               t●…e
               to
               sleep
               .
            
             
               Wanton
               de
               re
               shall
               not
               ●…
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               lust
               enveigle
               them
               to
               vi●…e
               :
            
             
               No
               fading
               colours
               shall
               ●…
               my
               fight
               ,
            
             
             
               Nor
               sounds
               enchant
               mine
               eares
               with
               their
               delight
               :
            
             
               I
               'll
               bind
               my
               smell
               ,
               my
               touch
               ,
               my
               tast
               ,
            
             
               To
               keep
               a
               strict
               religious
               fast
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               My
               worldly
               businesse
               shall
               lie
               still
               ,
            
             
               That
               heav'nly
               thoughts
               my
               mind
               may
               fill
               :
            
             
               My
               Marthaes
               cumb'ring
               cares
               shall
               cease
               their
               noise
               ,
            
             
               That
               Mary
               may
               attend
               her
               better
               choise
               .
            
             
               That
               meditation
               may
               advance
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               on
               purpose
               ,
               not
               by
               chance
               ,
            
             
               My
               body
               shall
               keep
               holy
               day
               ,
               that
               so
            
             
               My
               mind
               with
               better
               liberty
               may
               goe
            
             
               About
               her
               bus'nesse
               ,
               and
               ingrosse
            
             
               That
               gaine
               ,
               which
               worldly
               men
               count
               losse
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               And
               though
               my
               senses
               sleep
               the
               while
               ,
            
             
               My
               mind
               my
               senses
               shall
               beguile
            
             
               With
               dreames
               of
               thee
               ,
               dear
               Lord
               ,
               whose
               rare
               perfections
            
             
               Of
               excellence
               are
               such
               ,
               that
               bare
               inspections
            
             
               Cannot
               suffice
               my
               greedy
               soule
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               her
               fierce
               appetite
               controule
               ,
            
             
               Bur
               that
               the
               more
               she
               lookes
               the
               more
               she
               longs
               ,
            
             
               And
               strives
               to
               thrust
               into
               the
               thickest
               throngs
            
             
               Of
               those
               divine
               discoveries
               ,
            
             
               Which
               dazell
               even
               Angels
               eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Oh
               could
               I
               lay
               aside
               this
               flesh
               ,
            
             
               And
               follow
               after
               thee
               with
               fresh
            
             
               And
               free
               desires
               ,
               my
               disentangled
               soule
               ,
            
             
               Ravisht
               with
               admiration
               ,
               should
               roule
            
             
               It self
               ,
               and
               all
               its
               thoughts
               on
               thee
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               beleeving
               strive
               to
               see
               ,
            
             
               What
               is
               invisible
               to
               flesh
               and
               blood
               ,
            
             
               And
               only
               by
               fruition
               understood
               ,
            
             
             
               The
               beauty
               of
               each
               sev'rall
               grace
               ,
            
             
               That
               shines
               in
               thy
               Sunne-shaming
               face
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               But
               what
               I
               can
               doe
               that
               I
               will
               ,
            
             
               Waking
               and
               sleeping
               ,
               seek
               thee
               still
               :
            
             
               I
               'll
               leave
               no
               place
               unpri'd
               into
               behind
               me
               ,
            
             
               Where
               I
               can
               but
               imagine
               I
               may
               find
               thee
               :
            
             
               I
               'll
               aske
               of
               all
               I
               meet
               ,
               if
               they
            
             
               Can
               tell
               thee
               where
               thou
               art
               ,
               which
               way
            
             
               Thou
               go'st
               ,
               that
               I
               may
               follow
               after
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Which
               way
               thou
               com'st
               ,
               that
               thou
               mai'st
               meet
               with
               me
               .
            
             
               If
               not
               thy
               face
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               let
               mine
               heart
            
             
               Behold
               with
               Moses
               thy
               back
               part
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               33.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           wounding
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             LAM.
             3.12
             .
          
           
             He
             hath
             bent
             his
             bow
             ,
             and
             set
             me
             as
             a
             mark
             for
             the
             arrow
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 33.
                 
              
               
                 A
                 Thousand
                 of
                 thy
                 strongest
                 shasts
                 ,
                 my
                 light
                 ,
              
               
                 Draw
                 up
                 against
                 this
                 heart
                 with
                 all
                 thy
                 might
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 strike
                 it
                 through
                 :
                 They
                 ,
                 that
                 in
                 need
                 doe
                 stand
              
               
                 Of
                 cure
                 ,
                 are
                 healed
                 by
                 thy
                 wounding
                 hand
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             33.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               spare
               me
               not
               dear
               Lord
               ,
               it
               cannot
               be
            
             
               They
               should
               be
               hurt
               ,
               that
               wounded
               are
               by
               thee
               .
            
             
               Thy
               shafts
               will
               heale
               the
               hearts
               they
               hit
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               each
               sore
               its
               salve
               will
               fit
               .
            
             
               All
               hearts
               by
               Nature
               are
               both
               sick
               ,
               and
               sore
               ,
            
             
               And
               mine
               as
               much
               as
               any
               else
               ,
               or
               more
               :
            
             
               There
               is
               no
               place
               that
               's
               free
               from
               finne
               ,
            
             
               Neither
               without
               it
               ,
               nor
               within
               ,
            
             
               And
               universall
               maladies
               doe
               crave
            
             
               Variety
               of
               medicines
               to
               have
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               First
               ,
               let
               the
               arrow
               of
               thy
               piercing
               eye
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               light
               outvieth
               the
               star-spangled
               skie
               ,
            
             
               Strike
               through
               the
               darkne●…
               of
               my
               mind
               ,
            
             
               And
               leave
               no
               cloudy
               mist
               behind
               .
            
             
               Let
               thy
               resplendent
               rayes
               of
               knowledge
               dart
            
             
               Bright
               beames
               of
               understanding
               to
               mine
               heart
               ,
            
             
             
               To
               my
               finne-shadow'd
               heart
               ,
               wherein
            
             
               Black
               ignorance
               did
               first
               begin
            
             
               To
               blurre
               thy
               beauteous
               Image
               ,
               and
               deface
            
             
               The
               glory
               of
               thy self-sufficing
               grace
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Next
               let
               the
               shaft
               of
               thy
               sharp-pointed
               pow'r
            
             
               Discharged
               by
               that
               strength
               that
               can
               devour
            
             
               All
               difficulties
               ,
               and
               encline
            
             
               Stout
               opposition
               to
               resigne
            
             
               Its
               steely
               stubbornesse
               ,
               subdue
               my
               will
               ,
            
             
               Make
               it
               hereafter
               ready
               to
               fulfill
            
             
               Thy
               royall
               Law
               of
               righteousnesse
               ,
            
             
               As
               gladly
               ,
               as
               I
               must
               confesse
            
             
               It
               hath
               fulfilled
               heretofore
               th'
               unjust
               ,
            
             
               Prophane
               ,
               and
               cruell
               lawes
               of
               its
               own
               lust
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Then
               let
               that
               love
               of
               thine
               ,
               which
               made
               thee
               leave
            
             
               The
               bosome
               of
               thy
               Father
               ,
               and
               be●…eave
            
             
               Thy self
               of
               thy
               ●…
               glory
               ,
            
             
               Matter
               for
               an
               eternall
               story
               .
            
             
               Strike
               through
               mine
               affections
               all
               together
               ,
            
             
               And
               let
               that
               Sun
               shine
               ●…eer
               the
               cloudy
               weather
               ,
            
             
               Wherein
               they
               wander
               without
               guide
               ,
            
             
               Or
               order
               ,
               as
               the
               wind
               ,
               and
               tide
            
             
               Of
               floting
               ●…
               transport
               ,
               and
               tosse
               them
               ,
            
             
               Till
               self-begotten
               troubles
               curbe
               and
               crosse
               them
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               empty
               all
               thy
               Quivers
               ,
               let
               there
               be
            
             
               No
               corner
               of
               my
               spacious
               heart
               left
               free
               ,
            
             
               Till
               all
               be
               but
               one
               wound
               ,
               wherein
            
             
               No
               subtill
               sight-abhorring
               sinne
            
             
               May
               lurk
               in
               secret
               unespi'd
               by
               me
               ,
            
             
               Or
               reigne
               in
               power
               unsubdu'd
               by
               thee
               .
            
             
               Perfect
               thy
               purchas'd
               victory
               ,
            
             
             
               That
               thou
               mai'st
               ride
               triumphantly
               ,
            
             
               And
               leading
               captive
               all
               captivity
            
             
               Mai'st
               put
               an
               end
               to
               enmity
               in
               me
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Then
               ,
               blessed
               Archer
               ,
               in
               requitall
               I
            
             
               To
               shoote
               thine
               arrowes
               back
               again
               will
               try
               .
            
             
               By
               pray'rs
               ,
               and
               praises
               ,
               sighs
               ,
               and
               sobs
               ,
            
             
               By
               vowes
               ,
               and
               teares
               ,
               by
               groans
               ,
               and
               throbs
               ,
            
             
               I
               'll
               see
               if
               I
               can
               pierce
               ,
               and
               wound
               thine
               heart
               ,
            
             
               And
               vanquish
               thee
               againe
               by
               thine
               own
               art
               .
            
             
               Or
               ,
               that
               we
               may
               at
               once
               provide
            
             
               For
               all
               mishaps
               that
               may
               betide
               ,
            
             
               Shoot
               thou
               thy self
               ,
               thou
               polisht
               shaft
               ,
               to
               me
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               will
               shoot
               my
               broken
               heart
               to
               thee
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               34.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           inhabiting
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             GAL.
             4.6
             .
          
           
             God
             hath
             sent
             ●…
             the
             Spirit
             of
             his
             Son
             into
             your
             hearts
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epig●…
                 .
                 34.
                 
              
               
                 MIne
                 heart
                 's
                 an
                 ●…
                 ,
                 my
                 ●…
                 ,
                 and
                 thou
                 ●…
                 tell
              
               
                 ●…●…
                 enough
                 ●…
                 thy
                 Spirit
                 dwell
              
               
                 For
                 ever
                 ther●…●…●…●…
                 mai'st
                 love
                 me
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 being
                 to
                 ●…
                 I
                 m●…y
                 aga●…ne
                 love
                 thee
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             34.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Welcome
               ,
               great
               guest
               ,
               this
               house
               ,
               mine
               heart
               ,
            
             
               Shall
               all
               be
               thine
               :
            
             
               I
               will
               resigne
            
             
               Mine
               interest
               in
               ev'ry
               part
               :
            
             
               Only
               be
               pleas'd
               to
               use
               it
               as
               thine
               own
            
             
               For
               ever
               ,
               and
               inhabite
               it
               alone
               :
            
             
               There
               's
               roome
               enough
               ,
               and
               if
               the
               furniture
            
             
               Were
               answerably
               fitted
               ,
               I
               am
               sure
            
             
               Thou
               would'st
               be
               well
               content
               to
               stay
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               thy
               light
            
             
               Possesse
               my
               sight
            
             
               With
               sense
               of
               an
               eternall
               day
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               It
               is
               thy
               building
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               '
               r
               was
               made
            
             
               At
               thy
               command
               ,
            
             
               And
               still
               doth
               stand
            
             
               Upheld
               ,
               and
               shelter'd
               by
               the
               shade
            
             
             
               Of
               thy
               protecting
               providence
               :
               though
               such
            
             
               As
               is
               decaied
               ,
               and
               impaired
               much
               ,
            
             
               Since
               the
               removall
               of
               thy
               residence
               ,
            
             
               When
               with
               thy
               grace
               glory
               departed
               hence
               ,
            
             
               It
               hath
               been
               all
               this
               while
               an
               Inne
            
             
               To
               intertaine
            
             
               The
               vile
               ,
               and
               vaine
               ,
            
             
               And
               wicked
               companies
               of
               sinne
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Although
               't
               be
               but
               an
               house
               of
               clay
               ,
            
             
               Fram'd
               out
               of
               dust
               ,
            
             
               And
               such
               as
               must
            
             
               Dissolved
               be
               ,
               yet
               it
               was
               gay
               ,
            
             
               And
               glorious
               indeed
               ,
               when
               ev
               ry
               place
            
             
               Was
               furnished
               ,
               and
               fitted
               with
               thy
               grace
               :
            
             
               When
               in
               the
               Presence-chamber
               of
               my
               mind
               ,
            
             
               The
               bright
               Sun-beames
               of
               perfect
               knowledge
               shin'd
               :
            
             
               When
               my
               will
               was
               thy
               Bed-chamber
               ,
            
             
               And
               ev'ry
               pow'r
            
             
               A
               stately
               Tow'r
            
             
               Sweetned
               with
               thy
               Spirits
               amber
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               But
               whilst
               thou
               do'st
               thy self
               absent
               ,
            
             
               It
               is
               not
               grown
            
             
               Noysome
               alone
               ,
            
             
               But
               all
               to
               pieces
               torne
               ,
               and
               rent
               .
            
             
               The
               windowes
               all
               are
               stopt
               ,
               or
               broken
               so
               ,
            
             
               That
               no
               light
               without
               wind
               can
               thorow
               goe
               .
            
             
               The
               
               roofe's
               uncover'd
               ,
               and
               the
               wall
               's
               decai'd
               ,
            
             
               The
               door
               's
               flung
               off
               the
               hooks
               ,
               the
               floor
               's
               unlai'd
               ,
            
             
               Yea
               ,
               the
               foundation
               rotten
               is
               ,
            
             
               And
               every where
            
             
               It
               doth
               appeare
            
             
               All
               that
               remaines
               is
               farre
               amisse
               ,
            
          
           
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               But
               if
               thou
               wilt
               returne
               againe
               ,
            
             
               And
               dwell
               in
               me
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               shalt
               see
            
             
               What
               care
               I
               'll
               take
               to
               intertaine
            
             
               Thee
               ,
               though
               not
               like
               thy self
               ,
               yet
               in
               such
               sort
               ,
            
             
               As
               thou
               wilt
               like
               ,
               and
               I
               shall
               thank
               thee
               for
               't
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               let
               thy
               blessed
               Spirit
               keep
               possession
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               things
               will
               be
               well
               ;
               at
               least
               confession
            
             
               Shall
               tell
               thee
               what
               's
               amisse
               in
               me
               ,
            
             
               And
               then
               thou
               shalt
            
             
               Or
               mend
               the
               fault
               ,
            
             
               Or
               take
               the
               blame
               of
               all
               on
               thee
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               35.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           enlarging
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL.
             119.32
             .
          
           
             I
             will
             runne
             the
             way
             of
             thy
             Commandements
             ,
             when
             thou
             shall
             enlarge
             my
             heart
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 35.
                 
              
               
                 HOw
                 pleasant
                 is
                 that
                 now
                 ,
                 which
                 heretofore
              
               
                 Mine
                 heart
                 hela
                 buter
                 ,
                 sacred
                 learnings
                 l●…e
                 ?
              
               
                 ●…
                 hearts
                 enter
                 with
                 greatest
                 ease
              
               
                 The
                 ●…
                 paths
                 ,
                 and
                 runne
                 the
                 narrowest
                 wayes
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             35.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               What
               a
               blessed
               change
               I
               find
               ,
            
             
               Since
               I
               intertain
               d
               this
               guest
               !
            
             
               Now
               me thinks
               another
               mind
            
             
               Moves
               and
               rules
               within
               my
               brest
               .
            
             
               Surely
               I
               am
               not
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               That
               I
               was
               before
               he
               came
               ,
            
             
               But
               I
               then
               was
               much
               too
               blame
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               When
               before
               my
               God
               commanded
            
             
               Any
               thing
               he
               would
               have
               done
               ,
            
             
               I
               was
               close
               ,
               and
               gripple
               handed
               ,
            
             
               Made
               an
               end
               ere
               I
               begunne
               .
            
             
               If
               he
               thought
               it
               fit
               to
               lay
            
             
               Judgements
               on
               me
               ,
               I
               could
               say
            
             
               They
               are
               good
               ,
               but
               shrinke
               away
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               All
               the
               wayes
               of
               righteous●…sse
            
             
             
               I
               did
               think
               were
               full
               of
               trouble
               ,
            
             
               I
               complain'd
               of
               tediousnesse
               ,
            
             
               And
               each
               duty
               ●…
               double
               .
            
             
               Whilst
               I
               serv'd
               him
               but
               of
               feare
               ,
            
             
               Ev'ry
               minute
               did
               appeare
            
             
               Longer
               sarre
               then
               a
               whole
               yeare
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Strictnesse
               in
               Religion
               seemed
            
             
               Like
               a
               pined
               pinion'd
               thing
               :
            
             
               Bolts
               ,
               and
               fetters
               I
               esteemed
            
             
               More
               beseeming
               for
               a
               King
               ,
            
             
               Then
               for
               me
               to
               bow
               my
               neck
               ,
            
             
               And
               be
               at
               anothers
               beck
               ,
            
             
               When
               I
               felt
               my
               conscience
               check
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               But
               the
               case
               is
               alter'd
               now
               :
            
             
               He
               no
               sooner
               turnes
               his
               eye
               ,
            
             
               But
               I
               quickly
               bend
               ,
               and
               bow
               ,
            
             
               Ready
               at
               his
               feet
               to
               lie
               :
            
             
               Love
               hath
               taught
               me
               to
               obey
            
             
               All
               his
               precepts
               ,
               and
               to
               say
               ,
            
             
               Not
               to
               morrow
               ,
               but
               to
               day
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               What
               he
               wills
               I
               say
               I
               must
               :
            
             
               What
               I
               must
               I
               say
               I
               will
               :
            
             
               He
               commanding
               ,
               it
               is
               just
            
             
               What
               he
               would
               I
               should
               fulfill
               .
            
             
               Whilst
               he
               biddeth
               I
               beleeve
            
             
               What
               he
               calls
               for
               he
               will
               give
               .
            
             
               To
               obey
               him
               is
               to
               live
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               His
               Command'ments
               grievous
               are
               not
            
             
               Longer
               then
               men
               think
               t●…m
               so
               :
            
             
             
               Though
               he
               send
               me
               forth
               I
               care
               not
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               he
               gives
               me
               strength
               to
               goe
               .
            
             
               When
               ,
               or
               whither
               ,
               all
               is
               one
               ,
            
             
               On
               his
               bus'nesse
               ,
               not
               mine
               owne
               ,
            
             
               I
               shall
               never
               goe
               alone
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               If
               I
               be
               compleat
               in
               him
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               him
               all
               fulnesse
               dwelleth
               .
            
             
               I
               am
               sure
               aloft
               to
               swim
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               that
               Ocean
               overswelleth
               ,
            
             
               Having
               him
               that
               's
               All
               in
               All
               ,
            
             
               I
               am
               confident
               I
               shall
            
             
               Nothing
               want
               ,
               for
               which
               I
               call
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               36.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           inflaming
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL.
             39.3
             .
          
           
             My
             heart
             was
             hot
             within
             me
             :
             while
             I
             was
             musing
             the
             sire
             burned
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 36.
                 
              
               
                 SPare
                 not
                 ,
                 my
                 love
                 ,
                 to
                 kindle
                 ,
                 and
                 enflame
              
               
                 Mine
                 heart
                 within
                 throughout
                 ,
                 untill
                 the
                 same
              
               
                 Breake
                 forth
                 ,
                 and
                 burnc
                 :
                 that
                 so
                 ,
                 thy
                 Salamander
                 ,
              
               
                 Mine
                 heart
                 may
                 never
                 from
                 thy
                 furnace
                 wander
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             36.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Welcome
               ,
               holy
               ,
               heavenly
               fire
               ,
            
             
               Kindled
               by
               immortall
               love
               :
            
             
               Which
               descending
               from
               above
               ,
            
             
               Makes
               all
               earthly
               thoughts
               retire
               ,
            
             
               And
               give
               place
            
             
               To
               that
               grace
               ,
            
             
               Which
               with
               gentle
               violence
            
             
               Conquers
               all
               corrupt
               affections
               ,
            
             
               Rebell
               Natures
               insurrections
               ,
            
             
               Bidding
               them
               be
               packing
               hence
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thy
               fire
               doth
               heat
               within
               ,
            
             
               Warmeth
               not
               without
               alone
               ;
            
             
               Though
               it
               be
               an
               heart
               of
               stone
               ,
            
             
               Of
               it self
               congeal'd
               in
               sinne
               ,
            
             
               Hard
               as
               steel
               ,
            
             
               If
               it
               feel
            
             
             
               Thy
               dissolving
               pow'r
               ,
               it
               groweth
            
             
               Soft
               as
               waxe
               ,
               and
               quickly
               takes
            
             
               Any
               print
               thy
               Spirit
               make
               ,
            
             
               Paying
               what
               thou
               sai'st
               it
               oweth
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Of
               it self
               mine
               heart
               is
               dark
               ,
            
             
               But
               thy
               fire
               by
               shining
               bright
               ,
            
             
               Fills
               it
               full
               of
               saving
               light
            
             
               Though
               't
               be
               but
               a
               little
               spark
            
             
               Lent
               by
               thee
               ,
            
             
               I
               shall
               see
            
             
               More
               by
               it
               ,
               then
               all
               the
               light
               ,
            
             
               Which
               in
               fullest
               measures
               streames
            
             
               From
               corrupted
               Natures
               beames
               ,
            
             
               Can
               discover
               to
               my
               sight
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Though
               mine
               heart
               be
               ice
               ,
               and
               snow
               ,
            
             
               To
               the
               things
               which
               thou
               hast
               chosen
               ,
            
             
               All
               benum'd
               with
               cold
               ,
               and
               frozen
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               thy
               fire
               will
               make
               it
               glow
               .
            
             
               Though
               it
               burnes
               ,
            
             
               When
               it
               turnes
            
             
               Tow'rds
               the
               things
               which
               thou
               do'st
               hate
               :
            
             
               Yet
               thy
               blessed
               warmth
               ,
               no
               doubt
               ,
            
             
               Will
               that
               wild-fire
               soone
               draw
               out
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               heat
               thereof
               abate
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thy
               fire
               is
               active
               ,
               using
            
             
               Alwayes
               either
               to
               ascend
            
             
               To
               its
               native
               heav'n
               ,
               or
               lend
            
             
               Heat
               to
               others
               :
               and
               diffusing
            
             
               Of
               its
               store
            
             
               Gathers
               more
               ,
            
             
               Never
               ceasing
               till
               it
               make
            
             
             
               All
               things
               like
               it selfe
               ,
               and
               longing
            
             
               To
               see
               others
               come
               with
               thronging
            
             
               Of
               thy
               goodnesse
               to
               partake
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               then
               let
               thy
               fire
               enflame
            
             
               My
               cold
               heart
               so
               thoroughly
               ,
            
             
               That
               the
               heat
               may
               never
               die
               ,
            
             
               But
               continue
               still
               thr
               same
               :
            
             
               That
               I
               may
            
             
               Ev'ry
               day
            
             
               More
               ,
               and
               more
               ,
               consuming
               sinne
               ,
            
             
               Kindling
               others
               ,
               and
               attending
            
             
               All
               occasions
               of
               ascending
               ,
            
             
               Heaven
               upon
               earth
               begin
               ,
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               37.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           ladder
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL.
             84.
             5.
             
          
           
             In
             whose
             heart
             are
             the
             wayes
             of
             them
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 37.
                 
              
               
                 WOuld'st
                 thou
                 ,
                 my
                 love
                 ,
                 a
                 ladder
                 have
                 ,
                 whereby
              
               
                 Thou
                 mai'st
                 climbe
                 heaven
                 to
                 sit
                 downe
                 on
                 high
                 ?
              
               
                 In
                 thine
                 owne
                 heart
                 then
                 frame
                 thee
                 steps
                 ,
                 and
                 bend
              
               
                 Thy
                 mind
                 to
                 muse
                 how
                 thou
                 mai'st
                 there
                 ascend
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             37.
             
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               What
               ?
            
             
               Shall
               I
            
             
               Alwayes
               lie
            
             
               Grov'ling
               on
               earth
               ,
            
             
               Where
               there
               is
               no
               mirth
               ?
            
             
               Why
               should
               I
               not
               ascend
               ,
            
             
               And
               climbe
               up
               ,
               where
               I
               may
               mend
               .
            
             
               My
               meane
               estate
               of
               misery
               ?
            
             
               Happinesse
               I
               know's
               exceeding
               high
               :
            
             
               Yet
               sure
               there
               is
               some
               remedy
               for
               that
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               True
               ,
            
             
               There
               is
               .
            
             
               Perfect
               blisse
               ,
            
             
               The
               fruit
               of
               love
               ,
            
             
               May
               be
               had
               above
               :
            
             
               But
               he
               ,
               that
               will
               obtaine
            
             
               Such
               a
               gold-exceeding
               gaine
               ,
            
             
               Must
               never
               think
               to
               reach
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               And
               scale
               heav'ns
               walls
               ,
               untill
               he
               frame
            
             
               A
               ladder
               in
               his
               heart
               ●…●…●…
            
          
           
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               I
               will
               :
            
             
               But
               the
               skill
            
             
               Is
               not
               mine
               owne
               :
            
             
               Such
               an
               art
               's
               not
               knowne
               ,
            
             
               Unlesse
               thou
               wilt
               it
               teach
               :
            
             
               It
               is
               farre
               above
               the
               reach
            
             
               Of
               mortall
               minds
               to
               understand
               .
            
             
               But
               if
               thou
               wilt
               lend
               thine
               helping
               hand
               ,
            
             
               I
               will
               endeavour
               to
               obey
               thy
               Word
               .
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Well
            
             
               Then
               ,
               see
            
             
               That
               thou
               be
            
             
               As
               ready
               prest
            
             
               To
               performe
               the
               rest
               ,
            
             
               As
               now
               to
               promise
               faire
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               'll
               teach
               thee
               how
               to
               reare
            
             
               A
               scaling-ladder
               in
               thine
               heart
            
             
               To
               mount
               heaven
               with
               :
               no
               rules
               of
               art
               ,
            
             
               But
               I
               alone
               ,
               can
               the
               composure
               tell
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               First
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               must
            
             
               Take
               on
               trust
            
             
               All
               that
               I
               say
               ,
            
             
               Reason
               must
               not
               sway
            
             
               Thy
               judgement
               crosse
               to
               mine
               ,
            
             
               But
               her
               Scepter
               quite
               resigne
               .
            
             
               Faith
               must
               be
               both
               thy
               ladder
               sides
               ,
            
             
               Which
               will
               stay
               thy
               steps
               what
               e'er
               betides
               ,
            
             
               And
               satisfie
               thine
               hunger
               ,
               and
               thy
               thirst
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Then
               ,
            
             
               The
               round
            
             
               Next
               the
               ground
               ,
            
             
               Which
               I
               must
               see
               ;
            
             
               Is
               Humilitie
               :
            
             
               From
               which
               thou
               must
               ascend
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               perseverance
               end
               .
            
             
               Vertue
               to
               vertue
               ,
               grace
               to
               grace
               ,
            
             
               Must
               each
               orderly
               succeed
               in'
               ts
               place
               .
            
             
               And
               when
               thou
               hast
               done
               all
               beginne
               againe
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               38.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           flying
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             ISA.
             60.
             5.
             
          
           
             Who
             are
             these
             that
             fly
             as
             a
             cloud
             ,
             and
             as
             the
             Doves
             to
             their
             windowes
             ?
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 38.
                 
              
               
                 OH
                 that
                 mine
                 heart
                 had
                 wings
                 like
                 to
                 a
                 Dove
                 ,
              
               
                 That
                 I
                 might
                 quickly
                 hasten
                 hence
                 ,
                 and
                 move
              
               
                 With
                 speedy
                 flight
                 tow'rds
                 the
                 cel●…stiall
                 spheares
                 ,
              
               
                 As
                 weary
                 of
                 this
                 world
                 ,
                 its
                 faults
                 ,
                 and
                 feares
                 !
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             38.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               This
               way
               ,
               though
               pleasant
               ,
               yet
               me thinks
               is
               long
               :
            
             
               Step
               after
               step
               makes
               little
               haste
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               am
               not
               so
               strong
            
             
               As
               still
               to
               last
            
             
               Among
            
             
               So
               great
            
             
               So
               many
               lets
               :
            
             
               Swelter'd
               and
               swill'd
               in
               sweat
            
             
               My
               toyling
               soule
               both
               fumes
               and
               frets
               ,
            
             
               As
               though
               she
               were
               inclin'd
               to
               a
               retreat
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Corruption
               clogs
               my
               feet
               like
               filthy
               clay
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               am
               ready
               still
               to
               slip
               :
            
             
               Which
               makes
               me
               often
               stay
               ,
            
             
               When
               I
               should
               trip
            
             
               Away
               .
            
             
               My
               feares
            
             
             
               And
               faults
               ,
               are
               such
               ,
            
             
               As
               challenge
               all
               my
               teares
            
             
               So
               justly
               ,
               that
               it
               were
               not
               much
               ,
            
             
               If
               I
               in
               weeping
               should
               spend
               all
               my
               yeares
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               This
               makes
               me
               weary
               of
               the
               world
               below
               ,
            
             
               And
               greedy
               of
               a
               place
               above
               ,
            
             
               On
               which
               I
               may
               bestow
               ,
            
             
               My
               choisest
               love
               ,
            
             
               And
               so
            
             
               Obtaine
            
             
               That
               favour
               ,
               which
            
             
               Excells
               all
               worldly
               gaine
               ,
            
             
               And
               maketh
               the
               possessour
               rich
               ,
            
             
               In
               happinesse
               of
               a
               transcendent
               straine
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               What
               ?
               must
               I
               still
               be
               rooted
               here
               below
               ,
            
             
               And
               riveted
               unto
               the
               ground
               ,
            
             
               Wherein
               mine
               haste
               to
               grow
            
             
               Will
               be
               though
               sound
               ,
            
             
               But
               slow
               ?
            
             
               I
               know
            
             
               The
               Sunne
               exhales
            
             
               Grosse
               vapours
               from
               below
               ,
            
             
               Which
               ,
               scorning
               as
               it
               were
               the
               Vales
               ,
            
             
               On
               mountaine-topping
               clouds
               themselves
               bestow
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               But
               my
               fault-frozen
               heart
               is
               flow
               to
               move
               ,
            
             
               Makes
               poore
               proceedings
               at
               the
               best
               ,
            
             
               As
               though
               it
               did
               not
               love
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               long
               for
               rest
            
             
               Above
               .
            
             
               Mine
               eyes
            
             
               Can
               upward
               looke
               ,
            
             
             
               As
               though
               they
               did
               despise
            
             
               All
               things
               on
               earth
               ,
               and
               could
               not
               brooke
            
             
               Their
               presence
               :
               but
               mine
               heart
               is
               slow
               to
               rise
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Oh
               that
               it
               were
               once
               winged
               like
               the
               Dove
               ,
            
             
               That
               in
               a
               moment
               mounts
               on
               high
               ,
            
             
               Then
               should
               it
               soone
               remove
               ,
            
             
               Where
               it
               may
               ly
            
             
               In
               love
               .
            
             
               And
               loe
               ,
            
             
               This
               one
               desire
            
             
               Me
               thinks
               hath
               imp'd
               it
               so
               ,
            
             
               That
               it
               already
               flies
               like
               fire
               ,
            
             
               And
               ev'n
               my
               verses
               into
               wings
               doe
               grow
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               39.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           union
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             EZEK.
             11.19
             .
          
           
             I
             will
             give
             them
             one
             heart
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 39.
                 
              
               
                 LIke
                 minded
                 minds
                 ,
                 hearts
                 alike
                 heartily
              
               
                 Affected
                 will
                 together
                 live
                 ,
                 and
                 die
                 :
              
               
                 Many
                 things
                 meete
                 ,
                 and
                 part
                 :
                 but
                 loves
                 great
                 gable
              
               
                 Tying
                 two
                 hearts
                 makes
                 them
                 inseparable
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             39.
             
          
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               All
               this
               is
               not
               enough
               :
               me thinks
               I
               grow
            
             
               More
               greedy
               by
               fruition
               :
               what
               I
               get
            
             
               Serves
               but
               to
               set
            
             
               An
               edge
               upon
               mine
               appetite
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               thy
               gifts
               doe
               but
               invite
            
             
               My
               pray'rs
               for
               more
               .
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               if
               thou
               wilt
               not
               still
               encrease
               my
               store
               ,
            
             
               Why
               did'st
               thou
               any
               thing
               at
               all
               bestow
               ?
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               And
               is
               't
               the
               fruit
               of
               having
               still
               to
               crave
               ?
            
             
               Then
               let
               thine
               heart
               united
               be
               to
               mine
               ,
            
             
               And
               mine
               to
               thine
            
             
               In
               a
               firme
               union
               ,
               whereby
            
             
               We
               may
               no
               more
               be
               thou
               ,
               and
               I
               ,
            
             
               Or
               ,
               I
               ,
               and
               thou
               ,
            
             
               But
               both
               the
               same
               :
               and
               then
               I
               will
               avow
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               canst
               not
               want
               what
               thou
               do'st
               wish
               to
               have
               .
            
          
           
           
             The
             Soule
             .
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               True
               ,
               Lord
               ,
               for
               thou
               art
               All
               in
               All
               to
               me
               ,
            
             
               But
               how
               to
               get
               my
               stubborne
               heart
               to
               twine
               ,
            
             
               And
               close
               with
               thine
               ,
            
             
               I
               doe
               not
               know
               ,
               nor
               can
               I
               guesse
            
             
               How
               I
               should
               ever
               learne
               ,
               unlesse
            
             
               Thou
               wilt
               direct
            
             
               The
               course
               that
               I
               must
               take
               to
               that
               effect
               .
            
             
               'T
               is
               thou
               ,
               not
               I
               ,
               must
               knit
               mine
               heart
               to
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             Christ
             .
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               true
               ,
               and
               so
               I
               will
               :
               but
               yet
               thou
               must
            
             
               Doe
               something
               tow'rds
               it
               too
               :
               First
               ,
               thou
               must
               lay
            
             
               All
               ●…nne
               away
               ,
            
             
               And
               separate
               from
               that
               ,
               which
               would
            
             
               Our
               meeting
               intercept
               ,
               and
               hold
            
             
               Us
               distant
               still
               :
            
             
               I
               am
               all
               goodnesse
               ,
               and
               can
               close
               with
               ill
            
             
               No
               more
               ,
               then
               richest
               diamonds
               with
               dust
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Then
               thou
               must
               not
               count
               any
               earthly
               thing
               ,
            
             
               How
               ever
               gay
               ,
               and
               gloriously
               set
               forth
               ,
            
             
               Of
               any
               worth
               ,
            
             
               Compar'd
               with
               me
               ,
               that
               am
               alone
            
             
               Th'
               eternall
               ,
               high
               ,
               and
               holy
               One
               :
            
             
               But
               place
               thy
               love
            
             
               Onely
               on
               me
               ,
               and
               on
               the
               things
               above
               :
            
             
               Which
               true
               content
               ,
               and
               endlesse
               comfort
               bring
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Love
               is
               the
               loadstone
               of
               the
               heart
               ,
               the
               glew
               ,
            
             
               The
               cement
               ,
               and
               the
               ●…oder
               ,
               which
               alone
            
             
               Unites
               in
               one
            
             
               Things
               that
               before
               were
               not
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               But
               only
               like
               ,
               imparts
               the
               name
               ,
            
             
               And
               nature
               too
            
             
             
               Of
               each
               to
               th'
               other
               :
               nothing
               can
               undoe
            
             
               The
               knot
               that
               's
               knit
               by
               love
               ,
               if
               it
               be
               true
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               But
               if
               in
               deed
               ,
               and
               truth
               thou
               lovest
               me
               ,
            
             
               And
               not
               in
               word
               alone
               ,
               then
               I
               shall
               find
            
             
               That
               thou
               dost
               mind
            
             
               The
               things
               I
               mind
               ,
               and
               regulate
            
             
               All
               thine
               affections
               ,
               love
               ,
               and
               hate
               ,
            
             
               Delight
               ,
               desire
               ,
            
             
               Feare
               ,
               and
               the
               rest
               ,
               by
               what
               I
               doe
               require
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               in
               thee
               my self
               shall
               alwayes
               see
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               40.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           rest
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL.
             116.7
             .
          
           
             Returne
             unto
             thy
             rest
             ,
             O
             my
             soule
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 40.
                 
              
               
                 MY
                 busie
                 ,
                 stirring
                 heart
                 ,
                 that
                 seekes
                 the
                 best
                 ,
              
               
                 Can
                 find
                 no
                 place
                 on
                 earth
                 wherein
                 to
                 rest
                 :
              
               
                 For
                 God
                 alone
                 ,
                 the
                 author
                 of
                 its
                 blesse
                 ,
              
               
                 It
                 s
                 only
                 rest
                 ,
                 its
                 onely
                 center
                 ●…
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             40.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Move
               me
               no
               more
               ,
               mad
               world
               ,
               it
               is
               in
               va●…ne
               ,
            
             
               Experience
               tells
               me
               plaine
            
             
               I
               should
               deceived
               be
               ,
            
             
               If
               ever
               I
               againe
               should
               trust
               in
               thee
               .
            
             
               My
               weary
               heart
               hath
               ransackt
               all
            
             
               Thy
               treasuries
               both
               great
               ,
               and
               small
               ,
            
             
               And
               thy
               large
               inventories
               beares
               in
               minde
               :
            
             
               Yet
               could
               it
               never
               finde
            
             
               One
               place
               wherein
               to
               rest
               ,
            
             
               Though
               it
               hath
               often
               tried
               all
               the
               best
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Thy
               profits
               brought
               me
               losse
               in
               stead
               of
               gaine
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               thy
               pleasures
               paine
               :
            
             
               Thine
               honours
               blurr'd
               my
               name
            
             
               With
               the
               deep
               staines
               of
               self-confounding
               shame
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               wisdome
               made
               me
               turne
               starke
               fool
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               the
               learning
               ,
               that
               thy
               school
            
             
               Afforded
               me
               ,
               was
               not
               enough
               to
               make
            
             
             
               Me
               know
               my self
               ,
               and
               take
            
             
               Care
               of
               my
               better
               part
               ,
            
             
               Which
               should
               have
               perished
               for
               all
               thine
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Not
               that
               there
               is
               not
               place
               of
               rest
               in
               thee
            
             
               For
               others
               :
               but
               for
               me
            
             
               There
               is
               ,
               there
               can
               be
               ,
               none
               :
            
             
               That
               God
               ,
               that
               made
               mine
               heart
               ,
               is
               he
               alone
               ,
            
             
               That
               of
               himself
               both
               can
               ,
               and
               will
               ,
            
             
               Give
               rest
               unto
               my
               thoughts
               ,
               and
               fill
            
             
               Them
               full
               of
               all
               content
               ,
               and
               quietne●…
               ,
            
             
               That
               so
               I
               may
               ●…
            
             
               My
               soule
               in
               patience
               ,
            
             
               Untill
               he
               find
               it
               time
               to
               call
               me
               hence
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               On
               thee
               then
               ,
               as
               a
               sure
               foundation
               ,
            
             
               A
               tried
               corner-stone
               ,
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               I
               will
               strive
               to
               raise
            
             
               The
               tow'r
               of
               my
               salvation
               ,
               and
               thy
               praise
               .
            
             
               In
               thee
               ,
               as
               in
               my
               center
               ,
               shall
            
             
               The
               lines
               of
               all
               my
               longings
               fall
               .
            
             
               To
               thee
               ,
               as
               to
               mine
               anchor
               ,
               surely
               ti'd
            
             
               My
               ship
               shall
               safely
               ride
               .
            
             
               On
               thee
               ,
               as
               on
               my
               bed
            
             
               Of
               soft
               repose
               ,
               I
               'll
               rest
               my
               weary
               head
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Thou
               ,
               thou
               alone
               ,
               shalt
               be
               my
               whole
               desire
               ,
            
             
               I
               'll
               nothing
               else
               require
               ,
            
             
               But
               thee
               ,
               or
               for
               thy
               sake
               .
            
             
               In
               thee
               I
               'll
               sleepe
               secure
               ,
               and
               when
               I
               wake
            
             
               Thy
               glorious
               face
               shall
               satisfie
            
             
               The
               longing
               of
               my
               looking
               eye
               .
            
             
               I
               'll
               roule
               my self
               on
               thee
               ,
               as
               on
               my
               rock
               ,
            
             
             
               And
               threatning
               dangers
               mock
               .
            
             
               Of
               thee
               ,
               as
               of
               my
               treasure
               ,
            
             
               I
               'll
               boast
               ,
               and
               bragge
               ,
               my
               comforts
               know
               no
               measure
               .
            
          
           
             
               6
            
             
               Lord
               ,
               thou
               shalt
               be
               mine
               All
               ,
               I
               will
               not
               know
            
             
               A
               profit
               here
               below
               ,
            
             
               But
               what
               ●…
               on
               thee
               :
            
             
               Thou
               shalt
               be
               all
               the
               pleasure
               I
               will
               see
            
             
               In
               any
               thing
               the
               earth
               affords
               .
            
             
               Mine
               heart
               shall
               owne
               no
               words
            
             
               Of
               honour
               ,
               out
               of
               which
               I
               cannot
               raise
            
             
               The
               matter
               of
               thy
               praise
               .
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               I
               will
               not
               be
               mine
               ,
            
             
               Unlesse
               thou
               wilt
               vouchsafe
               to
               have
               me
               thine
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               41.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           bathing
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             JOEL
             3.21
             .
          
           
             I
             will
             cleanse
             their
             bloud
             ,
             that
             I
             have
             not
             cleansed
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 41.
                 
              
               
                 THis
                 bath
                 thy
                 Saviour
                 swet
                 with
                 drops
                 of
                 bloud
                 ,
              
               
                 Sick
                 heart
                 ,
                 of
                 purpose
                 for
                 to
                 doe
                 thee
                 good
                 .
              
               
                 They
                 that
                 have
                 tri'd
                 it
                 can
                 the
                 vertue
                 tell
                 ,
              
               
                 Come
                 then
                 and
                 use
                 it
                 ,
                 is
                 thou
                 wilt
                 be
                 well
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             41.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               All
               this
               thy
               God
               hath
               done
               for
               thee
               :
            
             
               And
               now
               mine
               heart
            
             
               It
               is
               high
               time
               that
               thou
               should'st
               be
            
             
               Acting
               thy
               part
               ,
            
             
               And
               meditating
               on
               his
               blessed
               Passion
               ,
            
             
               Till
               thou
               hast
               made
               it
               thine
               by
               imitation
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               That
               exercise
               will
               be
               the
               best
            
             
               And
               surest
               meanes
               ,
            
             
               To
               keep
               thee
               evermore
               at
               rest
               ,
            
             
               And
               free
               from
               paines
               .
            
             
               To
               suffer
               with
               thy
               Saviour
               is
               the
               way
            
             
               To
               make
               thy
               present
               comforts
               last
               for
               aye
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Trace
               then
               the
               steps
               ,
               wherein
               he
               trade
               ,
            
             
               And
               first
               begin
            
             
               To
               sweat
               with
               him
               .
               The
               heavy
               load
               ,
            
             
               Which
               for
               thy
               sinne
            
             
             
               He
               underwent
               ,
               squeez'd
               bloud
               out
               of
               his
               face
               ,
            
             
               Which
               in
               great
               drops
               came
               trickling
               downe
               apace
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Oh
               let
               not
               then
               that
               precious
               bloud
            
             
               Be
               spilt
               in
               vaine
               ,
            
             
               But
               gather
               ev'ry
               drop
               .
               'T
               is
               good
            
             
               To
               purge
               the
               staine
            
             
               Of
               guilt
               ,
               that
               hath
               defil'd
               ,
               and
               overspred
            
             
               Thee
               from
               the
               sole
               of
               
               th'foot
               to
               
               th'crown
               of
               
               th'head
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Poison
               possesseth
               every
               veine
               ,
            
             
               The
               fountaine
               is
            
             
               Corrupt
               ,
               and
               all
               the
               streames
               uncleane
               :
            
             
               All
               is
               amisse
               .
            
             
               Thy
               bloud
               's
               impure
               ,
               yea
               thou
               thy self
               ,
               mine
               heart
               ,
            
             
               In
               all
               thine
               inward
               pow'rs
               polluted
               art
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               When
               thy
               first
               father
               first
               did
               ill
               ,
            
             
               Mans
               doome
               was
               read
               ,
            
             
               That
               in
               the
               sweat
               of
               's
               face
               he
               still
            
             
               Should
               eat
               his
               bread
               .
            
             
               What
               the
               first
               Adam
               in
               the
               garden
               caught
               ,
            
             
               The
               second
               Adam
               in
               a
               garden
               taught
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Taught
               by
               his
               owne
               example
               ,
               how
            
             
               To
               sweat
               for
               sinne
               ,
            
             
               Under
               that
               heavy
               weight
               to
               bow
               ,
            
             
               And
               never
               linne
            
             
               Begging
               release
               ,
               till
               with
               strong
               cries
               ,
               and
               teares
            
             
               The
               soule
               be
               drain'd
               of
               all
               its
               saults
               ,
               and
               ●…eares
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               If
               sins
               imputed
               guilt
               opprest
            
             
               Th'
               Almighty
               so
               ,
            
             
             
               That
               his
               sad
               soule
               could
               find
               no
               rest
            
             
               Under
               that
               woe
               :
            
             
               But
               that
               the
               bitter
               agony
               he
               felt
            
             
               Made
               his
               pure
               bloud
               ,
               if
               not
               to
               sweat
               ,
               to
               melt
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Then
               let
               that
               huge
               inherent
               masse
            
             
               Of
               sinne
               ,
               that
               lies
            
             
               In
               heapes
               on
               thee
               ,
               make
               thee
               surpasse
            
             
               In
               teares
               ,
               and
               cries
               ,
            
             
               Striving
               with
               all
               thy
               strength
               ,
               untill
               thou
               sweat
            
             
               Such
               drops
               as
               his
               ,
               though
               not
               as
               good
               ,
               as
               great
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               And
               if
               he
               thinke
               it
               fit
               to
               lay
            
             
               Upon
               thy
               back
               ,
            
             
               Or
               paines
               ,
               or
               duties
               ,
               as
               he
               may
            
             
               Untill
               it
               crack
               ,
            
             
               Shrinke
               not
               away
               ,
               but
               straine
               thine
               utmost
               force
            
             
               To
               beare
               them
               cheerfully
               without
               remorse
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               42.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           binding
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             HOS.
             11.4
             .
          
           
             I
             drew
             them
             with
             cords
             of
             a
             man
             ,
             with
             bands
             of
             love
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 42.
                 
              
               
                 Mr
                 sinnes
                 ,
                 I
                 doe
                 consesse
                 ,
                 a
                 cord
                 were
                 found
              
               
                 Heavy
                 ,
                 and
                 hard
                 by
                 thee
                 ,
                 when
                 thou
                 wast
                 bound
                 ,
              
               
                 Great
                 Lord
                 of
                 love
                 ,
                 with
                 them
                 ,
                 but
                 thou
                 hast
                 twin'd
              
               
                 Gentle
                 love
                 cords
                 my
                 tender
                 heart
                 to
                 bind
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             42.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               What
               ?
               could
               those
               hands
               ,
            
             
               That
               made
               the
               world
               ,
               be
               subject
               unto
               bands
               ?
            
             
               Could
               there
               a
               cord
               be
               found
               ,
            
             
               Wherewith
               omnipotence
               it self
               was
               bound
               ?
            
             
               Wonder
               mine
               heart
               ,
               and
               stand
               amaz'd
               to
               see
            
             
               The
               Lord
               of
               liberty
            
             
               Led
               captive
               for
               thy
               sake
               ,
               and
               in
               thy
               stead
               .
            
             
               Although
               he
               did
            
             
               Nothing
               deserving
               death
               ,
               or
               bands
               ,
               yet
               he
            
             
               Was
               bound
               ,
               and
               put
               to
               death
               ,
               to
               set
               thee
               free
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Thy
               sinnes
               had
               ti'd
            
             
               Those
               bands
               for
               thee
               ,
               wherein
               thou
               should'st
               have
               di'd
            
             
               And
               thou
               did'st
               daily
               knit
            
             
               Knots
               upon
               knots
               ,
               whereby
               thou
               mad'st
               them
               ●…t
            
             
               Closer
               ,
               and
               faster
               ,
               to
               thy
               faulty
               self
               .
            
             
               So
               like
               a
               cursed
               else
               ,
            
             
             
               Helplesse
               ,
               and
               hopelesse
               ,
               friendlesse
               ,
               and
               forlorne
               ,
            
             
               The
               sinke
               of
               scorne
               ,
            
             
               And
               kennell
               of
               contempt
               ,
               thou
               should st
               have
               laine
            
             
               Eternally
               enthrall'd
               to
               endlesse
               paine
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Had
               not
               the
               Lord
            
             
               Of
               love
               and
               life
               been
               pleased
               to
               afford
            
             
               His
               helping
               hand
               of
               grace
               ,
            
             
               And
               freely
               put
               himself
               into
               thy
               place
               .
            
             
               So
               were
               thy
               bands
               transferr'd
               ,
               but
               not
               unti'd
               ,
            
             
               Untill
               the
               time
               he
               did
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               his
               death
               vanquisht
               ,
               and
               conqu'red
               all
               ,
            
             
               That
               Adams
               sall
            
             
               Had
               made
               victorious
               .
               Sinne
               ,
               Death
               ,
               and
               Hell
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               fatall
               foes
               ,
               under
               his
               footstool
               sell
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Yet
               he
               meant
               not
            
             
               That
               thou
               should'st
               use
               the
               liberty
               he
               got
            
             
               As
               it
               should
               like
               thee
               best
               ,
            
             
               To
               wander
               as
               thou
               listest
               ,
               or
               to
               rest
            
             
               In
               soft
               repose
               carelesse
               of
               his
               commands
               :
            
             
               He
               that
               hath
               loos'd
               those
               bands
               ,
            
             
               Whereby
               thou
               wast
               enslaved
               to
               the
               foes
               ,
            
             
               Binds
               thee
               with
               those
               ,
            
             
               Where
               with
               he
               bound
               himself
               to
               doe
               thee
               good
               ,
            
             
               The
               bands
               of
               love
               ,
               love
               writ
               in
               lines
               of
               blood
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               His
               love
               to
               thee
            
             
               Made
               him
               to
               lay
               aside
               his
               Majesty
               ,
            
             
               And
               cloathed
               in
               a
               vaile
            
             
               Of
               fraile
               ,
               though
               faultlesse
               flesh
               ,
               become
               thy
               baile
               .
            
             
               But
               love
               requireth
               love
               :
               and
               since
               thou
               art
            
             
               Loved
               by
               him
               ,
               thy
               part
            
             
               It
               is
               to
               love
               him
               too
               :
               and
               love
               affords
            
             
             
               The
               strongest
               cords
            
             
               That
               can
               be
               :
               for
               it
               ties
               ,
               not
               hands
               alone
               ,
            
             
               But
               heads
               ,
               and
               hearts
               ,
               and
               soules
               ,
               and
               all
               in
               one
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Come
               then
               ,
               mine
               heart
               ,
            
             
               And
               freely
               follow
               the
               prevailing
               art
            
             
               Of
               thy
               Redeemers
               love
               .
            
             
               That
               strong
               magnetique
               tie
               hath
               pow'r
               to
               move
            
             
               The
               steeli'st
               stubbornesse
               .
               If
               thou
               but
               twine
               ,
            
             
               And
               twist
               his
               love
               with
               thine
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               obedience
               labour
               to
               expresse
            
             
               Thy
               thankfulnesse
               ,
            
             
               It
               will
               be
               hard
               to
               say
               on
               whether
               side
            
             
               The
               bands
               are
               surest
               ,
               which
               is
               fastest
               tide
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               43.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           prop
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSAL.
             102.7
             ,
             8.
             
          
           
             His
             heart
             is
             fixed
             ,
             trusting
             in
             the
             Lord
             .
             His
             heart
             is
             established
             ,
             he
             shall
             not
             be
             affraid
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 43.
                 
              
               
                 My
                 weak
                 ,
                 and
                 seeble
                 heart
                 ,
                 a
                 prop
                 must
                 use
                 ,
              
               
                 But
                 pleasant
                 fruits
                 ,
                 and
                 flow'rs
                 doth
                 refuse
                 :
              
               
                 My
                 Christ
                 my
                 pillar
                 is
                 ,
                 on
                 h●…m
                 rely
                 ,
              
               
                 Repose
                 ,
                 and
                 rest
                 my self
                 ,
                 alone
                 will
                 I.
                 
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             43.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Suppose
               it
               true
               ,
               that
               whilst
               thy
               Saviours
               side
            
             
               Was
               furrowed
               with
               ●…courges
               he
               was
               ti'd
            
             
               Unto
               some
               pillar
               fast
               ,
            
             
               Think
               not
               ,
               mine
               heart
               ,
               it
               was
               because
               he
               could
            
             
               Not
               stand
               alone
               ,
               or
               that
               left
               loose
               he
               would
            
             
               Have
               shrunk
               away
               at
               last
               .
            
             
               Such
               weakne●…
               suits
               not
               with
               Omnipotence
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               could
               mans
               malice
               match
               his
               patience
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               But
               ,
               if
               so
               done
               ,
               't
               was
               done
               to
               tutor
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               frailty
               ,
               and
               impatience
               he
               doth
               see
            
             
               Such
               ,
               that
               thou
               hast
               nor
               strength
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               will
               ,
               as
               of
               thy self
               ,
               to
               undergo
            
             
               The
               least
               degree
               of
               duty
               ,
               or
               of
               woe
               ,
            
             
               But
               would'st
               be
               sure
               at
               length
            
             
               To
               flinch
               ,
               or
               faint
               ,
               or
               not
               to
               stand
               at
               all
               ,
            
             
               Or
               in
               the
               end
               more
               fearfully
               to
               fall
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Thy
               very
               frame
               ,
               and
               figure
               ,
               broad
               above
               ,
            
             
               Narrow
               beneath
               ,
               apparently
               doth
               prove
            
             
               Thou
               canst
               not
               stand
               alone
               ,
            
             
               Without
               a
               prop
               to
               boulster
               ,
               and
               to
               stay
               thee
               .
            
             
               To
               trust
               to
               thine
               own
               strength
               would
               soone
               betray
               thee
               .
            
             
               Alas
               ,
               thou
               now
               art
               growne
            
             
               So
               weak
               ,
               and
               feeble
               ,
               wav'ring
               ,
               and
               unstaid
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               shrink'st
               at
               the
               least
               weight
               that
               's
               on
               thee
               laid
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               The
               ea●…est
               command'ments
               thou
               declinest
               ,
            
             
               And
               at
               the
               lightest
               punishments
               thou
               whinest
               :
            
             
               Thy
               restlesse
               motions
               are
            
             
               Innumerable
               ,
               like
               the
               troubled
               sea
            
             
               Whose
               waves
               are
               toss'd
               ,
               and
               tumbled
               ev'ry
               way
               .
            
             
               The
               Hound-pursued
               Hare
            
             
               ●…●…
               so
               many
               doubles
               ,
               as
               thou
               do'st
               ,
            
             
               Till
               thy
               crosse
               courses
               in
               themselves
               are
               lost
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Get
               thee
               some
               stay
               that
               may
               support
               thee
               then
               ,
            
             
               And
               stablish
               thee
               ,
               lest
               thou
               should'st
               start
               againe
               .
            
             
               But
               where
               may
               it
               be
               found
               ?
            
             
               Will
               pleasant
               fruites
               ,
               or
               flowers
               serve
               the
               turne
               ?
            
             
               No
               ,
               no
               ,
               my
               tott'ring
               heart
               will
               overturne
               ,
            
             
               And
               lay
               them
               on
               the
               ground
               .
            
             
               Dainties
               may
               serve
               to
               minister
               delight
               ,
            
             
               But
               strength
               is
               onely
               from
               the
               Lord
               of
               might
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Betake
               thee
               to
               thy
               Christ
               then
               ,
               and
               repose
            
             
               Thy selfe
               in
               all
               extremities
               on
               those
            
             
               His
               everlasting
               armes
               ,
            
             
               Wherewith
               he
               girds
               the
               heavens
               ,
               and
               upholds
            
             
               The
               pillars
               of
               the
               earth
               ,
               and
               safely
               folds
            
             
             
               His
               faithfull
               flocke
               from
               harmes
               .
            
             
               Cleave
               close
               to
               him
               by
               saith
               ,
               and
               let
               the
               bands
            
             
               Of
               love
               tie
               thee
               in
               thy
               Redeemers
               hands
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Come
               life
               ,
               come
               death
               ,
               come
               devills
               ,
               come
               what
               will
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               ●…
               ned
               so
               thou
               shalt
               stand
               ●…
               still
               :
            
             
               And
               all
               the
               pow'rs
               of
               hell
            
             
               Shall
               not
               ●…
               to
               shake
               thee
               with
               their
               shock
               ,
            
             
               So
               long
               as
               ●…
               art
               founded
               on
               that
               rock
               :
            
             
               No
               duty
               shall
               thee
               quell
               ,
            
             
               No
               danger
               shall
               ●…
               thy
               ●…
               state
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               soule-perplexing
               ●…
               thy
               mind
               ●…
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               44.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           scourging
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PROV.
             10.13
             .
          
           
             A
             rod
             is
             for
             the
             backe
             of
             him
             that
             is
             void
             of
             understanding
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 44.
                 
              
               
                 WHen
                 thou
                 withhold'st
                 thy
                 scourges
                 ,
                 dearest
                 love
                 ,
              
               
                 My
                 sluggish
                 heart
                 is
                 slack
                 ,
                 and
                 slow
                 to
                 move
                 .
              
               
                 Oh
                 let
                 it
                 not
                 stand
                 still
                 ,
                 but
                 lash
                 it
                 rather
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 drive
                 it
                 ,
                 though
                 unwilling
                 ,
                 to
                 thy
                 Father
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             44.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               What
               doe
               those
               scourges
               on
               that
               sacred
               flesh
               ,
            
             
               Spotlesse
               and
               pure
               ?
            
             
               Must
               he
               ,
               that
               doth
               sin-weari'd
               soules
               refresh
               ,
            
             
               Himself
               endure
            
             
               Such
               tearing
               tortures
               ?
               Must
               those
               sides
               be
               gash'd
               ?
            
             
               Those
               shoulders
               lash'd
               ?
            
             
               Is
               this
               the
               trimming
               that
               the
               world
               bestowes
            
             
               Upon
               such
               robes
               of
               majestie
               as
               those
               ?
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Is
               't
               not
               enough
               to
               die
               ,
               unlesse
               by
               paine
            
             
               Thou
               antidate
            
             
               Thy
               death
               before
               hand
               ,
               Lord
               ?
               What
               do'st
               thou
               meane
            
             
               To
               aggravate
            
             
               The
               guilt
               of
               sinne
               ?
               or
               to
               enhance
               the
               price
            
             
               Thy
               sacrifice
            
             
               Amounts
               to
               ?
               Both
               are
               infinite
               I
               know
               ,
            
             
               And
               can
               by
               no
               additions
               greater
               grow
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Yet
               dare
               I
               not
               imagine
               that
               in
               vaine
            
             
               Thou
               did'st
               endure
            
             
               One
               stripe
               :
               though
               not
               thine
               owne
               thereby
               ,
               my
               gaine
            
             
               Thou
               did'st
               procure
               ,
            
             
               That
               when
               I
               shall
               be
               scourged
               for
               thy
               sake
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               stripes
               may
               make
            
             
               Mine
               acceptable
               ,
               that
               I
               may
               not
               grutch
               ,
            
             
               When
               I
               remember
               thou
               hast
               borne
               as
               much
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               As
               much
               ,
               and
               more
               ,
               for
               me
               .
               Come
               then
               mine
               heart
               ,
            
             
               And
               willingly
            
             
               Submit
               thy selfe
               to
               suffer
               :
               smile
               at
               smart
            
             
               And
               death
               de●…e
               .
            
             
               Feare
               not
               to
               feel
               that
               hand
               correcting
               thee
               ,
            
             
               Which
               set
               thee
               free
               .
            
             
               Stripes
               as
               the
               tokens
               of
               his
               love
               he
               leaves
               ,
            
             
               Who
               scourgeth
               ev'ry
               sonne
               whom
               he
               receives
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               There
               's
               foolishnesse
               bound
               up
               within
               thee
               fast
               :
            
             
               But
               yet
               the
               rod
            
             
               Of
               fatherly
               correction
               at
               the
               last
               ,
            
             
               If
               blest
               by
               God
               ,
            
             
               Will
               drive
               it
               farre
               away
               ,
               and
               wisdome
               give
               ,
            
             
               That
               thou
               maist
               live
               ,
            
             
               Not
               to
               thy self
               ,
               but
               him
               ,
               that
               first
               was
               slaine
               ,
            
             
               And
               died
               for
               thee
               ,
               and
               then
               rose
               againe
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Thou
               art
               not
               onely
               dull
               ,
               and
               slow
               of
               pace
            
             
               But
               stnbborne
               too
               ,
            
             
               And
               refractory
               ,
               ready
               to
               outface
               ,
            
             
               Rather
               then
               doe
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               duty
               :
               though
               thou
               know'st
               it
               must
               be
               so
               ,
            
             
             
               Thou
               wilt
               not
               go
            
             
               The
               way
               thou
               should'st
               ,
               till
               some
               affliction
            
             
               First
               set
               thee
               right
               ,
               then
               prick
               ,
               and
               spurre
               thee
               on
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Top-like
               thy
               figure
               ,
               and
               condition
               is
               ,
            
             
               Neither
               to
               stand
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               stirre
               ,
               thy self
               alone
               ,
               whilst
               thou
               do'st
               ●…
            
             
               An
               helping
               hand
            
             
               To
               set
               thee
               up
               ,
               and
               store
               of
               stripes
               bestow
            
             
               To
               make
               thee
               goe
               .
            
             
               Begge
               then
               thy
               blessed
               Saviour
               to
               transferre
            
             
               His
               scourges
               unto
               thee
               ,
               to
               make
               thee
               stirre
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               45.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           hedging
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             HOS.
             2.6
             .
          
           
             I
             will
             hedge
             up
             thy
             way
             with
             thornes
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 45.
                 
              
               
                 HE
                 ,
                 that
                 of
                 thornes
                 would
                 gather
                 roses
                 ,
                 may
              
               
                 In
                 his
                 own
                 heart
                 ,
                 if
                 handled
                 the
                 right
                 way
                 .
              
               
                 Hearts
                 hedged
                 with
                 Christs
                 Crowne
                 of
                 thornes
                 ,
                 in
                 stead
              
               
                 Of
                 thorny
                 cares
                 ,
                 will
                 sweetest
                 roses
                 breed
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             45.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               A
               crowne
               of
               thornes
               !
               I
               thought
               so
               :
               ten
               to
               one
               ,
            
             
               A
               crowne
               without
               a
               thorne
               there
               's
               none
               :
            
             
               There
               's
               none
               on
               earth
               I
               meane
               ,
               what
               shall
               I
               then
            
             
               Rejoyce
               to
               see
               him
               crown'd
               by
               men
               ,
            
             
               By
               whom
               Kings
               rule
               ,
               and
               reigne
               ?
               Or
               shall
               I
               scorne
               ,
            
             
               And
               hate
               ,
               to
               see
               earths
               curse
               ,
               a
               thorne
               ,
            
             
               Prepost
               '
               rously
               preferr'd
               to
               crowne
               those
               browes
               ,
            
             
               From
               whence
               all
               blisse
               ,
               and
               glory
               flowes
               ?
            
             
               Or
               shall
               I
               both
               be
               clad
               ,
            
             
               And
               also
               sad
               ,
            
             
               To
               think
               it
               is
               a
               crowne
               ,
               and
               yet
               so
               bad
               ?
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               There
               's
               cause
               enough
               of
               both
               ,
               I
               must
               confesse
               :
            
             
               Yet
               ,
               what
               's
               that
               unto
               me
               ,
               unlesse
            
             
               I
               take
               a
               course
               his
               crowne
               of
               thornes
               may
               be
            
             
               Made
               mine
               ,
               transferr'd
               from
               him
               to
               me
               ?
            
             
               Crownes
               had
               they
               been
               of
               starres
               could
               adde
               no
               more
            
             
               Glory
               ,
               where
               there
               was
               all
               before
               ,
            
             
               And
               thornes
               might
               scratch
               him
               ,
               could
               not
               make
               him
               worse
            
             
             
               Then
               he
               was
               made
               finne
               ,
               and
               a
               curse
               .
            
             
               Come
               then
               ,
               mine
               heart
               ,
               take
               downe
            
             
               Thy
               Saviours
               Crowne
            
             
               Of
               thornes
               ,
               and
               see
               if
               thou
               canst
               make
               't
               thine
               owne
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Remember
               first
               ,
               thy
               Saviours
               head
               was
               crown'd
            
             
               By
               the
               same
               hands
               that
               did
               him
               wound
               :
            
             
               They
               meant
               it
               not
               to
               honour
               ,
               but
               to
               scorne
               him
               ,
            
             
               When
               in
               such
               sort
               they
               did
               bethorne
               him
               .
            
             
               Think
               earthly
               honours
               such
               ,
               if
               they
               redound
            
             
               Not
               to
               his
               glory
               ,
               th'
               are
               not
               sound
               .
            
             
               Never
               beleeve
               they
               minde
               to
               dignifie
            
             
               Thee
               ,
               that
               thy
               Christ
               would
               crucifie
               .
            
             
               Think
               ev'ry
               crowne
               a
               thorne
               ,
            
             
               Unlesse
               't
               adorne
            
             
               Thy
               Christ
               ,
               as
               well
               as
               him
               ,
               by
               whom
               't
               is
               worne
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Consider
               then
               that
               ,
               as
               the
               thorny
               crowne
            
             
               Circled
               thy
               Saviours
               head
               ,
               thine
               owne
            
             
               Continuall
               care
               to
               please
               him
               ,
               and
               provide
            
             
               For
               the
               advantage
               of
               his
               side
               ,
            
             
               Must
               fence
               thine
               actions
               ,
               and
               affections
               so
               ,
            
             
               That
               they
               shall
               neither
               dare
               to
               goe
            
             
               Out
               of
               that
               compasse
               ,
               nor
               vouchsase
               accesse
            
             
               To
               what
               might
               make
               that
               care
               goe
               ●…
               .
            
             
               Let
               no
               such
               thing
               draw
               nigh
               ,
            
             
               Which
               shall
               not
               spie
            
             
               Thornes
               ready
               plac'd
               to
               ●…ick
               it
               till
               it
               die
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Thus
               ,
               compass'd
               with
               thy
               Saviours
               thorny
               Crowne
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               mai'st
               securely
               sit
               thee
               downe
               ,
            
             
               And
               hope
               that
               he
               ,
               who
               made
               of
               water
               wine
               ,
            
             
               Will
               turne
               each
               Thorne
               unto
               a
               Vine
               ,
            
             
               Were
               thou
               ●…
               gather
               grapes
               ,
               and
               to
               delight
               thee
            
             
             
               Roses
               :
               nor
               need
               the
               prickles
               fright
               thee
               .
            
             
               Thy
               Saviours
               sacred
               temples
               tooke
               away
            
             
               The
               curse
               ,
               that
               in
               their
               ●…
               lay
               .
            
             
               So
               thou
               mai'st
               crowned
               be
               ,
            
             
               As
               well
               as
               he
               ,
            
             
               And
               at
               the
               last
               light
               in
               his
               light
               shalt
               see
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               46.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           fastening
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             JER.
             32.40
             .
          
           
             I
             will
             put
             my
             feare
             in
             their
             hearts
             ,
             that
             they
             shall
             not
             depart
             from
             me
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 46.
                 
              
               
                 THou
                 ,
                 thath
                 wast
                 nailed
                 to
                 the
                 Crosse
                 for
                 me
                 ,
              
               
                 Lest
                 I
                 stould
                 slip
                 ,
                 and
                 fall
                 away
                 from
                 thee
                 ,
              
               
                 Drive
                 home
                 thine
                 holy
                 feare
                 into
                 mine
                 heart
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 clench
                 it
                 so
                 ,
                 that
                 it
                 may
                 ne'er
                 depart
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             46.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               What
               ?
               do'st
               thou
               struggle
               to
               get
               loose
               againe
               ?
            
             
               Hast
               thou
               so
               soone
               forgot
               the
               former
               paine
               ,
            
             
               That
               thy
               licentious
               bondage
               unto
               sinne
               ,
            
             
               And
               lust
               enlarged
               thraldome
               ,
               put
               thee
               in
               ?
            
             
               Hast
               thou
               a
               mind
               againe
               to
               rove
               ,
               and
               ramble
            
             
               Rogue-like
               a
               vagrant
               through
               the
               world
               ,
               and
               scramble
            
             
               For
               scraps
               ,
               and
               crusts
               of
               earth
               bred
               base
               delights
               ,
            
             
               And
               change
               thy
               dayes
               of
               joy
               for
               tedious
               nights
            
             
               Of
               sad
               repentant
               sorrow
               ?
            
             
               What
               ?
               wilt
               thou
               borrow
            
             
               That
               griefe
               to
               day
               ,
               which
               thou
               must
               pay
               to
               morrow
               ?
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               No
               ,
               self-deceiving
               heart
               ,
               lest
               thou
               should'st
               cast
            
             
               Thy
               cords
               away
               ,
               and
               burst
               the
               bands
               at
               last
            
             
               Of
               thy
               Redeemers
               tender
               love
               ,
               I
               'll
               try
            
             
               What
               further
               fastnesse
               in
               his
               feare
               doth
               lie
               .
            
             
               The
               cords
               of
               love
               soaked
               in
               lust
               may
               rot
               ,
            
             
             
               And
               bands
               of
               bounty
               are
               too
               oft
               forgot
               :
            
             
               But
               holy
               filiall
               feare
               ,
               like
               to
               a
               naile
            
             
               Fast
               ned
               in
               a
               sure
               place
               ,
               will
               never
               faile
               .
            
             
               This
               driven
               home
               will
               take
            
             
               Fast
               hold
               ,
               and
               make
            
             
               Thee
               that
               thou
               darest
               not
               thy
               God
               forsake
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Remember
               how
               ,
               besides
               thy
               Saviours
               bands
               ,
            
             
               Wherewith
               they
               led
               him
               bound
               ,
               his
               holy
               hands
               ,
            
             
               And
               feet
               ,
               were
               pierced
               ,
               how
               they
               nail'd
               him
               fast
            
             
               Unto
               his
               bitter
               ●…
               ,
               and
               how
               at
               last
            
             
               His
               precious
               side
               was
               goared
               with
               a
               speare
               .
            
             
               So
               hard
               sharp-pointed
               ●…
               ,
               and
               steel
               did
               teare
            
             
               His
               tender
               flesh
               ,
               that
               from
               those
               wounds
               might
               flow
            
             
               The
               sov'raigne
               salve
               for
               sin-procured
               woe
               .
            
             
               Then
               that
               thou
               mai'st
               not
               saile
            
             
               Of
               that
               availe
               ,
            
             
               Refuse
               not
               to
               be
               fast'ned
               with
               his
               naile
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Love
               in
               an
               heart
               of
               flesh
               is
               apt
               to
               taint
               ,
            
             
               Or
               be
               fly-blowne
               with
               folly
               :
               and
               its
               saint
            
             
               And
               feeble
               spirits
               ,
               when
               it
               shewes
               most
               faire
               ,
            
             
               Are
               often
               fed
               on
               by
               the
               empty
               aire
            
             
               Of
               popular
               applause
               ,
               unlesse
               the
               salt
            
             
               Of
               holy
               feare
               in
               time
               prevent
               the
               fault
               :
            
             
               But
               season'd
               so
               it
               will
               be
               kept
               for
               ever
               .
            
             
               He
               ,
               that
               doth
               feare
               because
               he
               loves
               ,
               will
               never
            
             
               Adventure
               to
               offend
               ,
            
             
               But
               alwayes
               ●…end
            
             
               His
               best
               endeavours
               to
               content
               his
               friend
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Though
               perfect
               love
               cast
               out
               all
               servile
               feare
               ,
            
             
               Because
               such
               feare
               hath
               torment
               :
               yet
               thy
               dear
            
             
               Redeemer
               meant
               not
               so
               to
               set
               thee
               free
               ,
            
             
             
               That
               filiall
               feare
               ,
               and
               thou
               should
               strangers
               be
               .
            
             
               Though
               ,
               as
               a
               sonne
               ,
               thou
               honour
               him
               thy
               father
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               ,
               as
               a
               master
               ,
               thou
               maist
               feare
               him
               rather
               .
            
             
               Feare
               's
               the
               soules
               Centinell
               ,
               and
               keepes
               the
               heart
               ,
            
             
               Wherein
               love
               lodges
               so
               ,
               that
               all
               the
               art
               ,
            
             
               And
               industry
               ,
               of
               those
               ,
            
             
               That
               are
               its
               foes
               ,
            
             
               Cannot
               betray
               it
               to
               its
               former
               woes
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           
             
               Embleme
               47.
               
            
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           new
           wine
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             PSA●…
             .
             104.115
             .
          
           
             Wine
             that
             maketh
             glad
             the
             heart
             of
             man
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               
                 Epigr.
                 47.
                 
              
               
                 CHrist
                 the
                 true
                 Vine
                 ,
                 grape
                 ,
                 cluster
                 ,
                 on
                 the
                 Crosse
              
               
                 Trod
                 the
                 ●…nepresse
                 alone
                 ,
                 unto
                 the
                 losse
              
               
                 Of
                 bloud
                 ,
                 &
                 life
                 .
                 Draw
                 ,
                 thankfull
                 heart
                 ,
                 and
                 spare
                 not
                 :
              
               
                 Here
                 's
                 wine
                 enough
                 for
                 all
                 ,
                 save
                 those
                 that
                 care
                 not
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           
             ODE
             .
             47.
             
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               Leave
               not
               thy
               Saviour
               now
               ,
               what
               ev'r
               thou
               do'st
               ,
            
             
               Doubtfull
               distrustfull
               heart
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               former
               paines
               ,
               and
               labours
               ,
               all
               are
               lost
               ,
            
             
               If
               now
               thou
               shalt
               depart
               ,
            
             
               And
               faithlesly
               fall
               off
               at
               last
               from
               him
               ,
            
             
               Who
               to
               redeeme
               thee
               spar'd
               nor
               life
               nor
               limme
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Shall
               he
               ,
               that
               is
               thy
               Cluster
               ,
               and
               thy
               Vine
               ,
            
             
               Tread
               the
               winepresse
               alone
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               thou
               stand'st
               looking
               on
               ?
               Shall
               both
               the
               wine
               ,
            
             
               And
               worke
               be
               all
               his
               owne
               ?
            
             
               See
               how
               he
               bends
               ,
               crusht
               with
               the
               straitned
               Screw
            
             
               Of
               that
               fierce
               wrath
               ,
               that
               to
               thy
               sinnes
               was
               due
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Although
               thou
               canst
               not
               helpe
               to
               beare
               it
               ,
               yet
            
             
               Thrust
               thy selfe
               under
               too
               ,
            
             
               That
               thou
               mai'st
               feel
               some
               of
               the
               weight
               ,
               and
               get
            
             
               Although
               not
               strength
               to
               doe
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               will
               to
               suffer
               something
               as
               he
               doth
               ,
            
             
             
               That
               the
               same
               stresse
               at
               once
               may
               squeeze
               you
               both
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Thy
               Saviour
               being
               press'd
               to
               death
               ,
               there
               ran
            
             
               Out
               of
               his
               sacred
               wounds
            
             
               That
               wine
               ,
               that
               maketh
               glad
               the
               heart
               of
               man
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               his
               foes
               confounds
               .
            
             
               Yea
               ,
               the
               full-flowing
               fountain
               s
               open
               still
            
             
               For
               all
               grace-thirsting
               hearts
               to
               drinke
               their
               fill
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               And
               not
               to
               drinke
               alone
               ,
               to
               satiate
            
             
               Their
               longing
               appetites
               ,
            
             
               Or
               drowne
               those
               cumbrous
               cares
               ,
               that
               would
               abate
            
             
               The
               edge
               of
               their
               delights
               ,
            
             
               But
               ,
               when
               they
               toyle
               ,
               and
               foile
               themselves
               ,
               with
               sinne
               ,
            
             
               Both
               to
               refresh
               ,
               to
               purge
               ,
               and
               cleanse
               them
               in
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Thy
               Saviour
               hath
               begun
               this
               Cup
               to
               thee
               ,
            
             
               And
               thou
               must
               not
               refuse
               't
               .
            
             
               Presse
               then
               thy
               sin-swoll'n
               sides
               ,
               untill
               they
               be
            
             
               Empty
               ,
               and
               fit
               to
               use
               't
               .
            
             
               Doe
               not
               delay
               to
               come
               ,
               when
               he
               doth
               call
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               feare
               to
               want
               ,
               where
               there
               's
               enough
               for
               all
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Thy
               bounteous
               Redeemer
               in
               his
               bloud
            
             
               Fills
               thee
               not
               wine
               alone
               ,
            
             
               But
               likewise
               gives
               his
               flesh
               to
               be
               thy
               food
               ,
            
             
               Which
               thou
               ●…
               make
               thine
               owne
               ,
            
             
               And
               feede
               on
               him
               ,
               who
               hath
               himself
               revealed
            
             
               The
               bread
               of
               Life
               by
               God
               the
               Father
               sealed
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               he
               's
               not
               food
               alone
               ,
               but
               physicke
               too
               ,
            
             
               When
               ever
               thou
               art
               sick
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               thy
               ●…
               strength
               ,
               that
               thou
               mai'st
               doe
            
             
             
               Thy
               duty
               ,
               and
               not
               stick
            
             
               At
               any
               thing
               ,
               that
               he
               requires
               of
               thee
               ,
            
             
               How
               hard
               soever
               it
               may
               seeme
               to
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Make
               all
               the
               haste
               then
               that
               thou
               canst
               to
               come
               ,
            
             
               Before
               the
               day
               be
               past
               ,
            
             
               And
               think
               not
               of
               returning
               to
               thy
               home
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               yet
               the
               light
               doth
               last
               .
            
             
               The
               longer
               ,
               and
               the
               more
               thou
               draw'st
               this
               wine
               ,
            
             
               Still
               thou
               shalt
               find
               it
               more
               ,
               and
               more
               divine
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Or
               if
               thy
               Saviour
               think
               it
               meet
               to
               throw
            
             
               Thee
               in
               the
               Presse
               againe
               ,
            
             
               To
               suffer
               as
               he
               did
               :
               yet
               doe
               not
               grow
            
             
               Displeased
               at
               thy
               paine
               :
            
             
               A
               Summer
               season
               followes
               Winter
               weather
               ,
            
             
               Suffring
               you
               shall
               be
               glorifi'd
               together
               .
            
          
           
             
               REVEL.
               22.
               17.
               
            
             
               The
               Spirit
               ,
               and
               the
               Bride
               say
               ,
               Come
               .
               And
               let
               him
               that
               heareth
               say
               ,
               Come
               .
               And
               let
               him
               that
               is
               a
               thirst
               ,
               come
               .
               And
               whosoever
               will
               ,
               let
               him
               take
               the
               water
               of
               life
               freely
               .
            
          
        
      
       
       
       
         
           The
           CONCLVSION
           .
        
         
           
             IS
             this
             my
             period
             ?
             Have
             I
             now
             no
             more
          
           
             To
             doe
             hereafter
             ?
             Shall
             my
             mind
             give
             o're
          
           
             It
             s
             ●…●…
             thus
             ,
             and
             idle
             be
             ,
          
           
             Or
             buss'd
             other
             wise
             ?
             Should
             I
             not
             see
          
           
             How
             to
             improve
             my
             thoughts
             more
             ●…
             ,
          
           
             Before
             ●…
             these
             Heart
             School
             ●…
             by
             ?
          
           
             Sea-knowledge
             is
             an
             ●…●…
             ,
          
           
             An
             ●…
             that
             doth
             not
             onely
             aske
          
           
             A
             ●…
             time
             ,
             but
             challengeth
          
           
             To
             ●…
             until
             death
             .
          
           
             Yet
             as
             in
             ●…
             they
             have
             a
             care
          
           
             To
             call
             for
             ●…●…
             ,
             and
             are
          
           
             ●…
          
           
             ●…
          
           
             ●…
          
           
             ●…
          
           
             So
             ●…
          
           
             What
             I
             have
             done
             ,
             ●…
          
           
             Perhaps
             I
             may
             ●…
          
           
             To
             alter
             ,
             or
             to
             ●…
          
           
             And
             I
             may
             ●…
          
           
             With
             my
             great
             ●…
          
           
             From
             taking
             our
             ●…
          
           
             How
             I
             retaine
             ●…
             old
             ●…
          
           
           
             And
             if
             it
             be
             his
             pleasure
             ,
             I
             shall
             say
          
           
             These
             ●…
             before
             others
             ,
             that
             they
             may
             ,
          
           
             Or
             learne
             them
             too
             ,
             or
             only
             censure
             me
             ;
          
           
             I
             'll
             wait
             with
             patience
             the
             successe
             to
             see
             .
          
           
             And
             though
             I
             looke
             not
             to
             have
             leave
             to
             play
             ,
          
           
             For
             that
             this
             School
             allowes
             not
             ,
             yet
             I
             may
          
           
             Another
             time
             perhaps
             ,
             if
             they
             approve
          
           
             Of
             these
             ,
             such
             as
             they
             are
             ,
             and
             shew
             their
             love
          
           
             To
             the
             
               School
               of
               the
               Heart
               ,
            
             by
             calling
             for
             't
             ,
          
           
             Adde
             other
             lessons
             more
             of
             the
             like
             sort
             .
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           Learning
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           The
           Preface
           .
        
         
           
             I
             Am
             a
             Scholar
             .
             The
             great
             Lord
             of
             Love
          
           
             And
             life
             ,
             my
             Tutor
             is
             :
             Who
             from
             above
          
           
             All
             that
             lack
             Learning
             ,
             to
             his
             School
             invites
             ,
          
           
             My
             Hearts
             my
             Prayer-book
             ,
             in
             which
             he
             writes
             ,
          
           
             Systemes
             of
             all
             the
             Arts
             and
             Faculties
             :
          
           
             First
             reads
             to
             me
             ,
             then
             makes
             me
             exercise
             ,
          
           
             But
             all
             in
             paradoxes
             ,
             such
             high
             strains
             ,
          
           
             As
             flow
             from
             none
             but
             love
             Inspired
             Brains
             ;
          
           
             Yet
             bids
             me
             publish
             them
             abroad
             and
             dare
          
           
             T'
             excell
             his
             Arts
             above
             all
             other
             Arts
             that
             are
             .
          
           
             Why
             should
             I
             not
             ?
             me thinks
             it
             cannot
             be
             ,
          
           
             But
             they
             should
             please
             others
             as
             well
             as
             me
             .
          
           
             Come
             then
             joyn'd
             hands
             ,
             and
             let
             our
             heart's
             embrace
             ,
          
           
             Whil'st
             thus
             loves
             Labyrinth
             of
             Arts
             we
             ●…
             ;
          
           
             I
             mean
             the
             
               Sidem's
            
             call'd
             
               ●…
               :
            
          
           
             Both
             
               ●…
               ,
            
             and
             ●…
             .
          
           
             With
             the
             higher
             ●…
             ,
             ●…
             ;
          
           
             And
             
               Law
               ,
            
             and
             ●…
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           Grammar
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           PSAL.
           15.
           2.
           
        
         
           That
           speaketh
           the
           Truth
           in
           his
           Heart
           .
        
         
           
             MY
             Grammar
             ,
             I
             define
             to
             he
             an
             Art
             ,
          
           
             Which
             teacheth
             me
             to
             write
             and
             speak
             mine
             heart
             ,
          
           
             By
             which
             I
             learn
             that
             smooth
             tongu'd
             flatt'ries
             are
          
           
             False
             Language
             ,
             and
             in
             love
             irregular
             .
          
           
             Among'st
             my
             Letters
             ,
             Vow-wells
             I
             admit
             ,
          
           
             Of
             none
             but
             Consonant
             to
             sacred
             ●…
             .
          
           
             And
             therefore
             when
             my
             Soul
             in
             silence
             moans
             ,
          
           
             Half
             vowel'd
             sighs
             ,
             and
             double
             deep
             thong'd
             groans
             ,
          
           
             Mute
             looks
             ,
             and
             liquid
             tears
             in
             stead
             of
             words
             ,
          
           
             Are
             of
             the
             language
             that
             mine
             heart
             affords
             .
          
           
             And
             since
             true
             love
             abhors
             all
             variations
             ,
          
           
             My
             Grammar
             hath
             no
             moads
             nor
             conjugations
             :
          
           
             Tenses
             ,
             nor
             Persons
             ,
             nor
             Declensions
             ,
          
           
             Cases
             ,
             nor
             genders
             ,
             nor
             comparisons
             :
          
           
             What
             are
             my
             Letters
             are
             ,
             my
             Words
             but
             one
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             the
             meaning
             of
             it
             love
             alone
             .
          
           
             Concard
             is
             all
             my
             Syntax
             and
             agreement
             :
          
           
             Is
             in
             my
             Grammar
             perfect
             regiment
             .
          
           
             He
             wants
             no
             Language
             that
             hath
             learn'd
             to
             love
             ,
          
           
             When
             tongues
             are
             still
             ,
             hearts
             will
             be
             heard
             above
             .
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           Rethorick
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           PSAL.
           45.
           1.
           
        
         
           My
           Heart
           is
           inaiting
           a
           good
           matter
           .
        
         
           
             MY
             Rethorick
             is
             not
             so
             much
             an
             Art
             ,
          
           
             As
             an
             infused
             habit
             in
             mine
             Heart
             ,
          
           
             Which
             a
             sweet
             secret
             Elegance
             Instills
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             my
             Speech
             with
             Tropes
             and
             Figures
             fills
             .
          
           
             Love
             is
             the
             tongues
             Elixir
             ,
             which
             doth
             change
          
           
             The
             ordinary
             sense
             of
             words
             ,
             and
             range
          
           
             Them
             under
             other
             kinds
             ,
             dispose
             them
             so
          
           
             That
             to
             the
             height
             of
             eloquence
             they
             grow
             ,
          
           
             E'vn
             in
             their
             native
             plainness
             ,
             and
             must
             be
          
           
             So
             understood
             as
             liketh
             love
             and
             me
             .
          
           
             When
             I
             say
             Christ
             ,
             I
             mean
             my
             Saviour
             ;
          
           
             When
             his
             Command'ment
             my
             behaviour
             ;
          
           
             For
             to
             that
             end
             it
             was
             he
             ●…●…
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             this
             purpose
             't
             is
             I
             bear
             his
             Name
             .
          
           
             When
             I
             say
             Hallow'd
             be
             thy
             name
             ,
             he
             knows
          
           
             I
             would
             be
             holy
             :
             for
             his
             glory
             grows
          
           
             Together
             with
             my
             good
             ,
             and
             he
             hath
             not
          
           
             Given
             more
             honour
             then
             himself
             hath
             got
          
           
             So
             when
             I
             say
             ,
             Lord
             let
             thy
             Kingdom
             come
             ,
          
           
             He
             understands
             it
             ,
             I
             would
             be
             at
             home
             ;
          
           
             To
             raign
             with
             him
             in
             glory
             .
             So
             grace
             brings
          
           
             My
             love
             in
             me
             to
             be
             the
             ●…
             of
             Kings
          
           
             He
             teacheth
             me
             to
             say
             .
             Thy
             will
             be
             done
             ,
          
           
             But
             meaneth
             he
             would
             ●…
             me
             do
             mine
             own
             ;
          
           
             By
             making
             ●…
             to
             ●…
          
           
             And
             so
             to
             rule
             my self
             and
             serve
             him
             both
             .
          
           
           
             So
             when
             he
             saith
             ,
             My
             Son
             give
             me
             thine
             heart
             :
          
           
             I
             know
             his
             meaning
             is
             ,
             that
             I
             should
             part
          
           
             With
             all
             I
             have
             for
             him
             ,
             give
             him
             my self
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             be
             rich
             in
             him
             from
             worldly
             pelf
             .
          
           
             When
             he
             says
             come
             to
             me
             ,
             I
             know
             that
             he
          
           
             Means
             I
             should
             wait
             his
             coming
             unto
             me
             ,
          
           
             Since
             't
             is
             his
             coming
             unto
             me
             that
             makes
          
           
             Me
             come
             to
             him
             ,
             my
             part
             he
             undertakes
             .
          
           
             And
             when
             he
             says
             ,
             Behold
             I
             come
             ,
             I
             know
          
           
             His
             parpose
             and
             intent
             is
             I
             should
             go
          
           
             With
             all
             the
             speed
             I
             can
             ,
             to
             meet
             him
             whence
          
           
             His
             coming
             is
             attract
             ve
             ,
             draws
             me
             hence
             .
          
           
             Thick
             folded
             Repititions
             in
             Love
             ,
          
           
             Are
             no
             ●…
             ,
             but
             strongly
             move
          
           
             And
             bind
             ●…
             Attention
             .
             Exclamations
             ,
          
           
             Are
             the
             hearts
             heaven
             ●…
             Exaltions
             .
          
           
             Epiphonemaes
             and
             Apostrophes
             ,
          
           
             Love
             likes
             of
             well
             ,
             but
             no
             Prosopopes
             .
          
           
             Not
             doubtful
             but
             careful
             deliberations
             ,
          
           
             Love
             holds
             as
             grounds
             of
             strongest
             Resolutions
             .
          
           
             Thus
             love
             and
             I
             a
             thousand
             ways
             can
             find
             ,
          
           
             To
             speak
             and
             understand
             each
             others
             mind
             ,
          
           
             And
             descant
             upon
             that
             which
             unto
             others
             ,
          
           
             Is
             but
             plain
             Song
             ,
             and
             all
             their
             Musick
             smothers
          
           
             ●…
             that
             which
             worldly
             wit
             worms
             call
             nonsence
             ,
          
           
             Is
             many
             times
             loves
             purest
             Eloquence
             .
          
        
      
       
       
         
           The
           Logick
           of
           the
           Heart
           .
        
         
           1
           Pet.
           3.
           15.
           
        
         
           Be
           ready
           always
           to
           give
           an
           Answer
           to
           every
           man
           that
           asketh
           you
           a
           Reason
           of
           the
           Hope
           that
           is
           in
           you
           .
        
         
           
             MY
             Logick
             is
             the
             faculty
             of
             Faith
             ,
          
           
             Where
             all
             things
             are
             resolv'd
             ●…
             be
             saith
             ;
          
           
             And
             Ergoes
             drawn
             from
             trust
             and
             ●…
          
           
             Twist
             and
             tie
             Truths
             with
             stronger
             ●…
          
           
             Then
             either
             sense
             or
             reason
             :
             for
             the
             heart
          
           
             And
             not
             the
             head
             is
             fountain
             of
             this
             Art
             .
          
           
             And
             what
             the
             heart
             objects
             none
             can
             ●…
             ,
          
           
             But
             God
             himself
             ,
             till
             death
             the
             frame
             ●…
             ,
          
           
             Nay
             Faith
             can
             after
             death
             ●…
             with
             dust
             ,
          
           
             And
             argue
             ashes
             into
             stronger
             trust
             .
          
           
             And
             better
             hopes
             then
             Brass
             and
             ●…
             can
          
           
             Be
             emblemes
             ,
             of
             unto
             the
             outward
             man
             .
          
           
             All
             my
             invention
             is
             to
             find
             what
             terms
          
           
             My
             Lord
             and
             I
             stand
             in
             :
             how
             he
             confirms
          
           
             His
             ●…
             to
             me
             ,
             how
             I
             inherit
          
           
             What
             he
             hath
             purchased
             for
             me
             by
             his
             merit
             .
          
           
             My
             judgment
             is
             submission
             to
             his
             will
             .
          
           
             And
             when
             he
             once
             hath
             spoken
             to
             be
             still
             .
          
           
             My
             Method
             's
             to
             be
             ●…
             by
             him
          
           
             What
             he
             ●…
             ,
             that
             I
             think
             most
             trim
             .
          
           
             Loves
             Arguments
             ,
             are
             all
             will
             ,
             thou
             must
             ,
          
           
             What
             he
             says
             and
             commands
             are
             true
             and
             ●…
             .
          
           
             When
             to
             dispute
             and
             argue's
             ●…
             of
             ●…
             ,
          
           
             Then
             to
             ●…
             and
             to
             ●…
             is
             ●…
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .