A Divine Poem divided into two Parts: The Ravished Soul, and the Blessed Weeper.  
Compiled by Nicholas Breton▪ Gentleman▪  
Imprínted at London, for john Browne, and john D●●ne. 1601.   

❧ TO THE RI●HT Honourable, discreet, and virtuous Lady, the Nourisher of the Learned, and favourer of the Godly: my singular good Lady, the Lady Mary, Countess of Pembroke: Nich: Breton wisheth all the good, that the heavens will & the world can give, to the pleasure of the Highest, and her worthy hearts desire.  
RIght Honourable, matter of most worth, to most worthy minds, is most worthily presented. What matter, in worth may compare with divine meditation? What mind more worthy honour, than the heavenly inclined? and whose mind more truly worthy of that blessed Title, than your Ladyships, I would there were many; but I know too few. Being th●n, in that excellent sense, truly yourself, whom (for more worth, than I will speak of) the wise admire, the learned follow, the virtuous love, and the honest serve; vouchsafe me leave among those poor people, that being thrown from the world, look only towards heaven & heavenly graces, to lay before your eyes a divine humour of a ravished soul: which (being above itself carried into the heavenly meditations of the mercies of the Almighty) by the blessing of his Holy Spirit, hath brought forth such fruits of his praise, as I hope will be pleasing to your good favour. To the honour of whose commandment avowing the duty of my heart's service, in all humble thankfulness for your bountiful undeserved goodness, praying for your eternal happiness, I take my leave.  
Your Ladyships, in all humbleness, Nicholas Breton.   

To the Reader.  
YOU, that with a zealous love of Religion, with an indifferent regard of Learning, and without disdain of Poetry, will vouchsafe to bestow a little time, in the perusing of this little volume of verses; it may be, you will not repent you of your Labour, nor think much of your cost, but when you have once read it over, perhaps begin it again, and end it without weariness. If you note it well, you may find matter of comfort, and nothing to the contrary: God truly glorified, in his manifold blessings: and man greatly blessed, that being endued with his Graces, by faith taketh hold of his mercies: the Athists confounded in their follies: and the virtuous blessed in their election. This if you find not, blame either yourself, or me: but if you note what I write, much good do you in the Reading, and God increase you in his blessing. And so in the best nature of love, leaving you to the joy of the best life, I end▪  
Your friend, Nicholas Breton.   

In Auctorem.  

TWo hopeful Twins, joint issues of one brain,  
A ●auisht Soul, and longing Spirit sends,  
Into your bosoms high and heavenly train,  
That are wits k●nsemen, and the Muse's friends.  
Embrace them, love them, and with judgements view  
Eye them. Believe me, Re●der, thou shalt find  
Their limbs well measured, and proportions t●u●.  
No part dissenting from their perfect kind.  
Only the fashion sits not on their clothes,  
To make them sightly to fantastic eyes.  
Pallas, not Venus, did the work dispose,  
Cutting their garments from Angelic skies.  
Plain is their habit, yet Divine and sweet.  
Fit for the wise, but for the wisest meet.   
H. T. Gent.   

The ravished Soul.  

Gloria in excelsis Deo.  

SIng, my soul, to God thy Lord,  
All in glories highest key:  
Lay the angels' quire aboard:  
In their highest holy day:  
Crave their helps, to tune thy heart,  
Unto praises highest part.   

Tell the world, no wo●ld can tell  
What the hand of heaven deserveth:  
In whose only Mercies dwell,  
All that heaven and earth preserveth;  
Deaths confounding, sins forgiving;  
Faiths relieving, Comforts living.   

Grace, and glory, life, and love  
Be the sum of all thy ditty;  
Where a sinner's teare● may prove  
Comforts ●oy in mercy's pity:  
Every note in lou● alluding,  
Endless glory in concluding▪   

Praise of praises where thou dwellest,  
Tell me (if the world may know thee)  
In what sense thou most ●xcellest,  
When thy wonder worth doth show thee▪  
In that state of honour's story,  
Where thou gainest thy highest glory▪   

●●s not earth, nor earthly wonder,  
Can discern thy dearest honour:  
All her praises are put under,  
When thy glory looks upon her.  
No● in heaven, thy glory dwelleth;  
Where thy wonder most excelleth.   

Yet in heaven was never living  
Virgin, Saint, nor Angel's spirit;  
Where thy Grace may have the giving  
Of thine honour's highest Merit.  
'tis their glory's admiration,  
That deserves thy commendation.   

Since then by all consequences,  
In the notes of Glories nature,  
And the Grace's influences,  
'tis no earth, nor heavenly creature;  
In my God alone on high,  
Is this only mystery.   

And since in his Majesty,  
All, and only ever dwelleth  
That most glorious Deity,  
That all praises praise excelleth;  
Say, although thy soul attend him,  
It can never comprehend him.   

If thou speakest of power, all powers  
To his power, are in subjection:  
If thou speakest of time, all hours  
Run their course by his direction:  
If of wisdom, all is vanity;  
But in his Divine humanity.   

If of truth, it is his trial:  
If of love, it is his treasure:  
If of life, it is his dial:  
If of grace, it is his pleasure:  
If of goodness, 'tis his story:  
If of mercy, 'tis his glory.   

If of justice, judgement showeth  
His proceeding is impartial:  
If of valour, all hell knoweth  
Who is heavens high Marshal:  
If of bounty, 'tis his blessing:  
If of place, 'tis his possessing.   

If of patience, his perfection:  
If of comfort, 'tis his favour:  
If of virtue, his affection:  
If of sweet, it is his ●auour:  
If of triumph, 'tis his merit:  
If perfection, 'tis his spirit.   

If above all these thou singest,  
Ravished in thy reason's glory:  
Tell the world, what ere thou bringest,  
Admirations wonders story,  
To such height my Saviour raiseth,  
As above all praises praiseth.   

Let all kings, and princes then▪  
In submission fall before him;  
Virgins, Angels, holy men,  
Both in heaven and earth adore him▪  
In his only mercy seeing▪  
All, and only all your being.   

Babes and children, show his Glory,  
In your silly souls preserving.  
Men and Women note this story  
Of the life of loves deserving:  
Heaven and earth be ever reading  
Of this essence of exceeding.   

Sun, and Moon, and every creature,  
In that shining starry sky,  
All confess your brightness feature,  
In the hand of mercy's eye:  
And for all your blessed powers,  
Show it Gods, and none of yours.   

And when all the world together  
join, with Angel's harmony:  
Let my soul come singing thither,  
With that blessed company;  
God, in mercy's power victorious,  
Be above all Glory glorious. Amen.   

Sacred Muse, that only sittest,  
In the Spirits of the Blessed:  
And the faithful only fittest,  
With their thoughts to heaven addressed;  
Help my humble soul to sing▪  
To my Glorious heavenly King.   

All abandon earth's conjecture,  
Think not on so mean an instance:  
Make thine honour's Architecture,  
But on Grace's glorious substance:  
There, in comforts confirmation,  
Build thy heavenly habitation.   

Study not Astronomy,  
Lest to darkness turn thy light:  
But tha● high Divinity,  
Where the day hath never night:  
There find out that work of worth,  
That may bring thy wonder forth.   

In the tears of true contrition,  
Think on Mercies blessedness:  
And in care of loves condition,  
Of perfections holiness:  
Then, in notes of Grace's glory,  
Make the state of all thy story.    

Il Christiano all honore di Christo.  

BEfore there was a light, there was a light,  
Which saw the world, the world could never see▪  
From which the world receives his brightest sight;  
Yet cannot see, what brightness there may be.   

From this fair light, there came a living love;  
A love, which gives the living all their seeing:  
And in the life of all th●ir seeing prove  
The only essence of their only being.   

From this bright love, there came a living word:  
A word that doth in wisdom signify,  
What heaven and earth in wonder can afford,  
Is, but in life this love to dignify.   

For in this Word was that Almighty power,  
Which was before that power was ever named:  
Begun before the first beginning hour,  
Framing each substance that was ever framed.   

And in that word, that only wisdom dwelleth,  
That only knows, what only may be known:  
And in that knowledge, knowledge all excelleth;  
Because it knows, all knowledge is his own.   

This worthy word of wisdoms wonderment  
(To give some notice of his powerful nature)  
In wisdom, made his will an instrument,  
To show himself, unto his silly creature.   

This holy essence of the Deity,  
In Virgin's womb did take the vail of flesh:  
Bringing the dew of blessed charity,  
Our withring spirits sweetly to refresh▪   

This highest height of heavenly Majesty,  
This word of wisdoms, gracious, glorious love,  
Invested in all virtues unity,  
That perfect God, and perfect man approve,   

From the sweet bosom of his Father's breast,  
Eternal Babe, of all eternal bliss;  
All blessed babe, that made the mother ble●t,  
By that sweet blessed holy love of his▪   

From the high Throne of heavenly glories seat,  
Unto this world, this worthless world descended,  
With their cross spirits kindly to entreat  
For their own good, that highly him offended.   

This blessed Infant of Eternity,  
And only glorious Essence of the same,  
By the clear light of his all-seeing eye,  
Beholding all things, all, so out of frame,   

Unto his servants, to make known his love,  
And to redeem what lack of love had lost,  
In tender age, and elder years did prove  
How patience care might be in passions crossed.   

When first sweet Infant in the mother's arms,  
Fed with the milk of pure Virginity,  
How did he scape the Tyrant Herod's harms?  
That little knew of his Divinity.   

But, Oh, when first his presence sweet appeared,  
Unto the silly shepherds in the field:  
With how much joy, were all their spirits cheered,  
Whose humble eyes his heavenly face beheld.   

While in the heavens the Angels sung for joy,  
That peace by him unto the world was come:  
By him, who should both death and hell destroy,  
And be the Saviour of his Chosen sum.   

The Virgin mother joyed in her child;  
And in her joy did call her son her Saviour:  
Whose gracious spirit in her countenance mild,  
Did show the blessing of her meek behaviour.   

Oh blessed Son, the Father's best beloved,  
In whom, he all and only did delight:  
How many ways his works in wonder proved:  
He held the sceptre of his Father's right.   

In simpleness, all harmless as the Dove:  
In learning, putting all the Doctors down:  
In power, the hand of highest heavens behove:  
In state, the king of kings in glories crown.   

In patience, the true proof of sufferance:  
In truth, the touchstone of all virtues trialll:  
In love, director of life's ordinance:  
In life, the hand of the eternal Dial.   

In charity, the giver of all good:  
In bounty, the bestower of all bliss:  
In mercy, faiths eternal blessed food:  
In grace, the guide, that cannot lead amiss.   

In wisdom, founder of all wit and sense:  
In will, the worker of all wonders worth:  
In essence, all the Sum of excellence:  
In all, that good, that brings all glory forth.   

This essence all incomprehensible,  
Yet, willing in his mer●ies to be known;  
That glory might not be offensible,  
That in a shadow only should be shown,   

First, in the time of feeble Infancy,  
When nature's weakness fled a feared force:  
Then, in the years of Reason's constancy;  
When gracious mercy gloried in Remorse,   

Came to the world, to call the world to come,  
Unto his Call, that had the heavens at Call:  
Healing the sick, the blind, lame, deaf, and dumb,  
And raised them up, that ready were to fall.   

Contented with the badge of poverty;  
Who might command both heaven and earth at will:  
Lodged in a manger in humility:  
Who in himself, both heaven and earth did fill.   

Threatened with death, who was the life of life:  
Sought to be slain, who was the death of death:  
The ground of peace, yet with the world at strife:  
And suffered death, yet gave the living breath.   

Seek heaven and earth, and find out such another.  
So might command, and so would be commanded:  
Who was our King, yet would become our brother:  
Might strike all dumb, and yet would be demanded.   

Would leave such pleasure, and endure such pain,  
And, for their lives, that crucified his love:  
With loss of life, to make their living gain,  
That proved Turkeys to their turtle-dove.   

Who ever craved his help? and was denied:  
Who loved him so? but left him at his death:  
Who ever failed, whose faith on him relied?  
Yet, who for him would spare one favours breath?   

Oh Lord, what madness could be more in men?  
Then when they knew the truth, to make a doubt;  
And long in darkness, having light even then,  
To blind themselves, to put the candle out.   

And blessed women that his death bewailed,  
While hearts deep grief, found comforts high perfection:  
When passions tears so much with love prevailed,  
As first to them revealed his resurrection.   

The mother wept, to see her son so used:  
The sinner wept, to see her Saviour dying:  
The cousin wept, to see her kin abused:  
All for his death fell to a deadly crying.   

The Sun eclipsed, the day did lose his light;  
And stones did rise against their maker's foes:  
The Temple rend, the people were affright,  
And from the graves the troubled spirits rose.   

All these were tokens of his holy truth;  
To make men know, how they were woe begon them:  
But graceless spirits, void of gracious ruth,  
Ventured to take the guiltless blood vpo● them▪   

Here then behold th● majesty of bliss,  
That prayed for them, that preyed upon him so:  
Content with all might come to him amiss,  
So his with him might to their comfort go.   

His life, the lantern of eternal light:  
His death, the p●●●age ●o eternal rest:  
His grace, ●h●●●rke of the most blessed sight:  
His love, the life of the eternal bl●st.   

His miracles, the witness of his power:  
His Sacraments, remembrance of his love:  
His resurrection, his triumphant hour:  
And his Ascension, Angels joys above.   

His travail, all, to bring our souls to rest:  
His prayer, for our preservation:  
His work, to joy the spirits of the blessed:  
His word the assured truth of our s●●uation.   

His war a fight, but only for our peace:  
His peace, th● joy, wherein our souls do live▪  
His wounds, the salve, that doth our woes release:  
His triumph, freely of his grace to give.   

Oh, should I run into that world of worth,  
Wherein his glory duly doth increase:  
I should more wonder of most worth bring forth,  
Then thought can reach, until all thinking cease.   

But, since true love requi●ed with unkindness,  
Grace with disgrace, Comfort with misery:  
Wisdom with folly, Truth with falsehoods blindness▪  
Honour with shame, and right with injury:   

Since all the contraries of true content,  
That wit and reason, rightly may receive,  
His heavenly mercy, truly patient,  
All for our good, full meekly did receive.   

And being gone from our ungracious hands,  
Unto the right hand of his father's rest:  
There in his hourly intercession stands,  
For our remission making lo●es request.   

And by his word, the Message of his will,  
Sent by the Preachers of his proved truth,  
Doth call our souls, from all accursed ill,  
Unto the good of gracious mercy's ruth.   

And bids our faith, to fear no hurt of sin,  
And leaves us lessons in the ●●les of grace:  
Where true repentance doth remission win,  
And humble faith doth find in heaven a place.   

And lets us see each day, and every night,  
A kind of figure, both of heaven and hell:  
And how that sins do always fly the light,  
While blessed graces do in brightness dwell:   

And how the virtuous in the heavens are blessed,  
And how the vicious in their horrors hated:  
And how the Just shall have their wrongs redressed,  
And how the proud shall have their pride abated.   

How Charity shall be in heaven rewarded:  
How patience care shall richly be contented:  
How Bribrie shall be utterly discarded,  
And Tyranny shall be in hell tormented.   

How humble faith shall be in heaven beloved,  
And gracious spirits blessedly embraced:  
And faithless spirits from all grace removed,  
And graceless spirits utterly disgraced.   

When life shall be pronounc'● to the elected;  
And love shall take the charge of the beloved:  
And hell receive the souls of the rejected,  
To endless pains of graceless will reproved:   

When this (I say) and all that can be said,  
That may revive the virtuous in their death:  
And justly make the reprobate afraid,  
With looking down into their hell beneath.   

Our Lo●d hath left us in those lines of love,  
That heavenly wisdom wrote for our instruction:  
Yet we, all careless of our soul's be●oue,  
Will headlong run upon our own destruction.   

What shall I say? but, let the Atheist fry  
Within ●he coals of his own conscience fire:  
Torments too true, too late will make him try,  
He cannot scape the fury of God's ire.   

And let the faithful in their fearless hope,  
Assure their spirits of especial Grace:  
The breadth of heaven doth bea●e so large a scope,  
That none so poor but there shall have a place.   

And let the prince not glory in his crown,  
But lay it at the feet of mercy's love:  
And let the haughty pull those humours down,  
That only work for wicked hells behove.   

Oh, let the fair leave painting of their faces,  
And only seek the beauty of the mind:  
For God alon● doth love the inward graces,  
And not the shadows, that the eye do blind.   

And let the rich not let his riches rust,  
But seek the wealth, but of the spirits worth.  
Fo● God doth know, your treasure is but dust,  
And ye but stewards for to let it forth.   

And let the wise, so well employ their wits▪  
They may attain the knowle●●e to do well:  
And shun the follies of those madding fits,  
That leaving heaven do run the way to hell.   

Oh, let that Queen be truly Angellike,  
With grace's Sceptre, holds the Sword of peace:  
And, by her faith, in mercy's hand doth seek  
A joyful Kingdom, that shall never cease.   

And, let that Lady think herself a Queen,  
That hath possession of her spirit so;  
That she could leave all comforts she hath seen,  
And her own self unto her God to go.   

And let that Soldier most that valour love,  
Where God assistes the faithful in their fight:  
While lack of faith in Coward fear doth prove,  
Each shadow doth the faithless soul affright.   

And, let the Lawyer look on justice lines,  
And know that God will right the poor man's wrong;  
And that such Lawyers, as are true Divines,  
Do love the Muses sing of mercy's song.   

And, let the Merchant love that traffic best,  
Where travail finds the treasure of God's grace:  
While greedy minds, that fill the golden chest,  
Shall never see their Saviour in the face.   

And, let the Scholar that doth study most,  
Find out the truth of life's eternal treasure:  
And, think all labour in his study lost,  
Where God his grace gives not the spirit pleasure.   

And, let the lover leave his wanton look,  
With such illusions as enchant the mind:  
And, only love the beauty of that Book,  
Where God alone is in his love to find.   

Abhor the Devil, and he will depart.  
Grace is as near as sin, if you will crave it;  
So faith do beg it with repentant heart:  
For fear, nor pride are ever like to have it.   

Cry unto Christ, whom you have crucified:  
In tears of love, reveal your hate of sin:  
So, in your grief, when grace is glorified,  
Be sure, in mercy doth your bliss begin.   

Believe his word, seek to obey his will,  
And know the work is his, and none of yours:  
Strive to do well, and fly the way to ill:  
And be submissive to supernal pours.   

Be patient in the cross of any care;  
Repentant in remembrance of amiss:  
Constant in faith; love God without compare;  
And give all glory to that name of his.   

Hate him that speaks against his Majesty,  
Love him in soul, that will forsake him never:  
And know, the scorners of the Deity  
Shall all be damned, and fry in hell for ever.   

Go to your closet, lovely there alone,  
bleed forth in tears, the truth of your belief:  
And you shall see, your smallest spirits groan  
Will find a grace to ease you of your grief.   

For he that knows the secrets of your thought,  
And knows the natures of your sins disease,  
Will never see your spirit overwrought;  
But in the instant give you present ease.   

You shall be the dear daughter of his love,  
And like a father he will look upon you:  
And in his mercy so much comfort prove,  
That you shall never more be woe-begon you.   

Your soul in heaven shall half already be,  
The Angels gin to set your part to sing:  
Your spirits eye shall, in som● grace●, se●  
Some shadowing glory of your heavenly king.   

And you all ravished with your heavenly joy,  
Will so his gracious, glorious Name ●dore▪  
That being healed of your soul's annoy,  
This hateful world shall be your love no more.   

And you, of men, that have been long admired,  
For many worths, well worthy admiration,  
Shall then of Angels be as much desired▪  
For heavenly grounds of grace's confirmation.   

And God himself, so near himself will set you,  
In grace's seat, where mercy so will love you,  
That faith's regard will never more forget you;  
Nor ●inne, nor death, nor devil shall remove yo●.   

But where the Saints and Angels are reciting  
The heavenly truth of high I●houahs story:  
Your ravished soul, in such divine ●●diting,  
Shall evermore be singing of his ●lory.   

To the assured hope of which high grace,  
In humble prayer, let my poor humble pen,  
In your good favour, beg that blessed place,  
Where my poor heart, may haply say, Amen.   
Gloria in excelsis Deo.    

The blessed Weeper.  

MY thoughts amazed, I know not how, of late,  
Half in a slumber, and more half a sleep,  
My troubled senses, at a strange debate,  
What kind of care should most my spirit keep,  
Me thought, I saw a silly woman weep,  
And with her weeping, as it seemed, so pleased,  
As if her heart had with her tears been eased.   

The place, near which she sat, was like a grave,  
But all uncovered, and the body gone:  
Where, in her care, she nothing seemed to crave,  
But, that stolen body how to look upon.  
When, weeping so, appeared to her anon  
Two blessed Angels, and one Lord of bliss,  
Who came to comfort this poor wretch of his.   

But ere they came, how she in bitter tears  
Bewailed the loss, or lack of her de●re love:  
As to her words my vision witness bears,  
And my remembrance, may for truth approve,  
The whole discourse, her passions seemed to move,  
In hearts deep grief, & souls high ●oy conceived,  
Was as I write▪ were not my thoughts deceived.   

If ever sorrow in a sinners' heart  
Lived ', to distill those drops of bitter tears,  
That to the world in passions can impart  
Part of that pain, the troubled spirit bears;  
Smoothring the woes, wherein all pleasure wears,  
Oh let her show the deepest of her skill,  
In drawing out the essence of mine ill.   

The loss of health the heart may somewhat craze,  
The loss of wealth distemper may the mind;  
The loss of honour is a fearful Maze;  
The loss of friends, a care of grievous kind:  
But, all these woes, upon one heart to wind,  
Were much to think: but much more to believe,  
How it could live, whom far more Crosses grieve.   

But, from the bag of naked poverty,  
To have more wealth, than all the world can give:  
And from the care of all calamity,  
In all the comfort of content to live,  
Where settled joy all grief away doth drive,  
And suddenly, grow sick, and poor again,  
Who c●n conceive the plague of such a pain?   

I wretched, I, the outcast of all grace,  
And banished for my sin, from heavenly bliss▪  
I, that to Hell, did headlong run my race,  
Not caring how my soul was led amiss,  
While I was cozened, by the Serpent's hiss;  
I Caitiff wretch, of all the world the worst,  
By sins just doom ●o endless sorrow cursed.   

ay, wretched soul, whom sin had bared so,  
As left me naked of all Nature's grace:  
I sink of sin, and also full of woe,  
As knew not how in heaven to have a place;  
And in the depth of all this desperate case,  
To be relieved, and clothed, graced, and beloved,  
And on the sudden, from all these removed.   

To lose the Vesture of that virtues grace,  
That clothed my naked soul, ashamed of sin;  
To lose the beauty, of that blessed face,  
Where mercies love did comforts life begin:  
To lose the joys, that heavens were glad to win;  
To lose the life of such a lovely Friend,  
Oh let me weep, and never make an end.   

The child, that hath his Father dearly loving,  
Who sees his faults, and greatly doth abhor them,  
Yet so from wrath, will have his thoughts removing,  
As he will neither check, nor chide him for them;  
But puts them back, while pity stands before them:  
And doth not only all his faults forgive,  
But makes him kindly in his grace to live▪   

That happy Child, that in his heart hath felt  
The blessed life of such a Father's love,  
Think how his heart must needs in sorrow melt,  
That must the loss of such a Father prove,  
And curse the death doth such a life remove:  
And, as a Creature, in all comforts freendlesse,  
bleed out his time, in tears of sorrow endless.   

That wicked Child of too much ill am I,  
That had a Father held me all too dear:  
Who from my sins, did turn his angry eye,  
And on my sorrow show'd a smile cheer,  
And to his grace did take my soul so near,  
As when ashamed to come his face before,  
He said but this, Take heed thou sin no more.   

My sins forgiven, what joy my soul received,  
None can express but the repentant heart:  
Nor can that sorrow ever be conceived,  
To see that Father from that Child depart;  
But in that soul, that in the bitter smart  
Of the true feeling of that Father's love,  
Had rather death, than his departure prove.   

The careless Servant, that the goods misspends,  
Which his kind Master to his trust committ●●●▪  
And his neat house to thieves and Varlets lends,  
And cares for nought, but what his humour fitteth,  
That gracious Lord, that all such faults remittteth,  
And in his goodness doth so dearly love him,  
That from his favour nothing shall remove him.   

So ●ll a Servant, that doth find the love  
Of such a Lord, as never like was found▪  
And in the midst of all his joy must prove  
The death, to see his comfort all a ground,  
His blessed Lord, by thieves and Varlets bound,  
Scoffed, scourged, & beaten, sorrowing, sighing, dying;  
How can that Servant cease continual crying?   

That wicked Servant, wretched wretch am I:  
That loving Master, was my living Lord:  
Whose gracious gifts, abused ungraciously,  
Whose house, my soul, fowl spirits laid aboard,  
Filled full of sins, of graces all abhorred:  
Yet for all this, and all that I ●ould do,  
My Lord forgave me, and did love me too.   

He cleansed my soul, from all my filthy sin:  
And with my tears, did wash it clean again,  
Drove out the Fiends, and kindly entered in,  
With grace to heal, that sorrow would have slain:  
And in his love, did so my tears retain,  
That every drop that fell upon his feet,  
Unto my soul did give a heavenly ●weet.   

Now, such a Master, as was never such;  
So good, unto a Servant, none so ill:  
So much abused, abuses, oh too much;  
A cursed crew, to work their hellish will,  
Like ravening Wolves, a silly Lamb to kill,  
Fowl darkness so, to govern over light,  
Who would not weep to death at such a sight?   

A sorry Sister that hath such a brother,  
As for her love would venture loss of life,  
And her unkindness so in kindness smother,  
As twixt their lo●es, should kill all cause of strife;  
Though her ill course were his hearts cutting knife:  
To see that brother lose his living breath,  
How can that Sister choose but weep to death?   

That Sister I, that brother was my Lord,  
Who in his love laid down his life for me.  
Whose death, oh Cross of crosses to record,  
Ah wretch that ever I was borne to see:  
Though by his death, my life must only be.  
To lose a Father, Master, Brother such,  
Child, Servant, Sister, how ca● I weep too much?   

Shame bade me weep enough, to see how sin  
Besmeered had my soul with ugly spots,  
And weep to feel how I was feltered in  
The wretched snarls of wicked nature's knots,  
And weep to look upon those loathsome blots,  
That filled me so with grief of all disgrace,  
I durst not see my Saviour in the face.   

At whose sweet feet I kneeling wept with fear,  
I had offended to presume so near,  
But, sin so fled away at every tear,  
That grace began my heavy heart to cheer:  
When my dear Lord said not, What dost thou here?  
Or get thee hence: or like a dog out spurn me:  
But from my sin unto his mercy turn me.   

He felt my teares, though no man heard my weeping,  
And gave me grace, though no man for me moved him.  
Which made me know, he had my soul in keeping▪  
Though sin too long, too far from me removed him.  
For sin once fled, how dear in soul I loved him,  
His words can witness, that my soul did touch,  
Much is forgiven her, for she loved much.   

He loved much that me so much forgave.  
Such my forgiver how much should I love?  
Forgave my sins, and from the Fiend did save  
My wounded soul that could no comfort prove,  
Till grace and mercy did my grief remove.  
But, when I felt my pain of sin once past,  
In mercy's grace, I wept with joy as fast.   

But, oh my soul, unworthy of this sweet,  
Could not enjoy these joyful tears too long:  
For sin and sorrow did so sound meet,  
As made my heart to sing another song,  
When I beheld, the too apparent wrong,  
My Lord, my Love, my life, my King and God,  
For my poor soul, and for my sins abode.   

To see the Lamb, that bleated but our bliss,  
Brought all by Wolves, unto a bleeding end:  
To see that cruel shameful death of his,  
Who did his course but for our comfort bend,  
And held our foe, that was our dearest Friend:  
Who did such good, and to receive such ill,  
Weep heart to death, and die in weeping still.   

Ungrateful wretches, worthless of all grace,  
Rebellious Subjects, Traitors to your King,  
Could ye behold his works before your face,  
What choice of good his charity did bring?  
And from your hearts could so much venom springe,  
As with the Lord of peace, to stir such strife,  
To seek his death, who only gave you life?   

Slaves, Dogs, and Devils, worse if I could call ye,  
That so have shown the malice of your minds,  
I cannot wish more ill than shall befall ye,  
That are the imps of such accursed kinds,  
As ugly Satan with illusions blinds:  
I weep not for your sorrow; but to see,  
That all ye did not die, to set him free.   

And better had it been for ye to die,  
Then have been borne to bring him to his death,  
And by your deeds to die eternally,  
Or live in death within the Hell beneath,  
Where never air shall breathe you wholesome breath:  
But by your choice of torments make you know,  
What ye have done to breed my weeping so.   

Alas, what sin but did my soul possess?  
But that accursed crucifying sin,  
That would not let your wicked souls confess  
His glorious grace, whose grace did first begin,  
By true desert, all glory due to win:  
And by such grace did win my soul so to him,  
My death were sweet if it might service do him.   

Oh that my tears, kept number with my sins:  
Or that my sins were drowned in my tears:  
Then should my weeping show how joy begins,  
In faithful heart, where fearful sorrow wears,  
And comforts bliss, so much contentment bears,  
That hope should show, that half a heaven do●h win;  
Better to weep in grace, then laugh in sin.   

But, what speak I of either sin or grace?  
My sins too grievous, and my grace is gone:  
My life ●s dead, the earth is all too base,  
For my loves Lord, to deign to look upon,  
Where lives not one good creature, no not one▪  
And what should I but weep to live to see,  
I cannot see where my sweet Lord may be.   

But since mine eyes have lived to behold  
The heavenly substance of my life and love,  
Wherein my faith doth graciously unfold  
The only blessing of my souls behove,  
All in the glory of the heavens above,  
Why should I live and look upon the light?  
Now I have lost the joy of such a sight.   

No, I do hope my darkness will not hold,  
The night will pass and Sun again will shine.  
Although my heart in comfort be a cold,  
My soul doth tell me, that these tears of mine  
Shall all be dried up by his hand divine:  
Who so will cure me of my sinful sore,  
That I shall joy in grace, and weep no more.   

But he is gone, my spirits only sweet▪  
And I am left, a wretched sinner here:  
Oh that my tears could with my comfort meet,  
And I might see my saving health so near,  
As with his sight my heavy heart might cheer:  
Then should I love mine eyes for such a seeing:  
Without which sight, they joy not in their being.   

Let me then seek, where I may hope to see  
The only substance of my joying sight:  
And never rest nor ever weary be,  
Until I come unto that star of light,  
Which may direct my heart and spirit right,  
Unto that place, where gracious love will show  
My soul his presence, that it loveth so.   

To climb to heaven it is too high a place:  
Sin weighs me down to love, to seek him there:  
For hell, it is unworthy of such grace:  
And for the world, my sorrow witness bear,  
It is not worthy of his name to hear.  
Then since, nor here, nor there▪ without all doubt,  
Within the grave I must go seek him ou●.   

Oh ground, more gracious than the world beside,  
Which dost enclose that all the world commands:  
And blessed earth, that in thy Centre hides  
His Corpse, for whom my weeping soul demands:  
Tell me, oh heavens, into what holy hands,  
He is conveyed, and where he now may be,  
Whom thus my heart with tears desires to see?   

Thus weeping still, two Angels did appear,  
Who, as it seemed, desirous for to know  
The moanful cause of this her mourning cheer,  
Wherefore she wept, and what she sought for so;  
Briefly she thus her grief began to show  
(Wring her hands, with many a bitter tear)  
Her Lord was stolen, and laid she knew not where.   

O blessed Angels▪ blessed as ye be,  
Tell me where is my highest bliss become?  
Your Lord and mine, oh tell me where is he,  
May cheer the heart that sorrow doth benumb:  
Starve not my tears, vouchsafe my soul one crumb  
Of comforts care, to let me truly know,  
Where is my Lo●d, that I lament for so.   

But do ye ask me whom I seek for so?  
Or why I weep? Because I cannot find him.  
O heavenly creature help my soul to know  
But where he is, that I may come behind him,  
That he may know, but how my love doth mind him:  
If dead, I may unto his tomb restore him,  
And if alive, I may on knees adore him.   

Oh happy Gardener of this holy ground,  
Blest art thou borne, if thou hast lived to see  
That blessed body where it may be found,  
That here lay buried: tell me (if thou be,  
Sent from my Lord to come and comfort me)  
Who hence hath stolen the substance of my bliss▪  
And where bestowed that holy Corpse of his.   

But do you ask me why I weep so much?  
And what I seek? I seek my soul's delight:  
And weep, because I find not any such,  
As can direct me to so sweet a sight:  
This is the cause of my hearts heavy plight.  
Oh tell me then, and put me out of doubt,  
Dead, or alive, where I may find him out.   

Thus while her ey●s continual weeping kept,  
Came Christ himself, although a while unknown:  
Who asked her what she sought, and why she wept:  
She, as before unto the Angels shown,  
Began in tears to make her piteous moan;  
Her Lord wa● stolen, & born● she knew not whither,  
But if he knew, he would di●ect her thither.   

But, while the Lord of all her life and love,  
Beheld her tears, the witness of her truth,  
To make her faith in heavenly favour prove  
The sweet reward of mercies sacred ruth,  
And know what life of such a love ensueth,  
Spoke but one word, but that word was so sweet,  
As would have made her soul to kiss his feet.   

Marry, quoth he, Oh Master, blessed voice,  
From which my heart receives so sweet a sound,  
As makes my soul in ravished joy rejoice,  
To think to live, that I my Lord have found:  
Oh let my sins be in my te●●es so drowned,  
That in my joys, my ●oule be eue● weeping,  
To have thy presence in my Comforts keeping.   

I will not press one foot beyond the line  
Of thy loves leave, vouchsafe me but a look  
Of that sweet heavenly holy eye of thine,  
Of my dear Love the everliving Book:  
Wherein my tears have such t●●● comfort took,  
That, let the world torment 〈◊〉 near so sore,  
Let me see thee, and I desire no more.   

Oh, sight more precious than tongue can express,  
Wherein the eye doth comfort so the heart,  
The heart, the soul, and all in their distress,  
Do find an ease, and end of every smart,  
When ●ie and heart, and soul and every part  
Conclude in joy, that comfort did begin;  
Better to weep in grace, then laugh in sin.   

And with that word, she vanished so away,  
As if that no such woman there had been.  
But yet me thought, her weeping seemed to say,  
The Spirit was of Marie Magdalen;  
Whose body now, although not to be seen,  
Yet by her speech, it seemed it was she,  
That wished all women might such Weepers be.   
FINIS.