A Solemn Passion of the Souls love.  
At London Printed by Simon Stafford for William Barley, and are to be sold at his shop in Gracious street. 1598.   

A solemn Passion of the Souls love.  

A Wake, my soul, out of the sleep of sin,  
And shake off sloth the subject of thy shame,  
Search out the way how best thou mayest begin  
To holy work thine humble will to frame:  
Then prove not weary of a little pain,  
When flesh's grief will breed the spirits gain.   

Confess thyself unworthy of the sense,  
To learn the least of the supernal will,  
Beseech the heavens in strength of their defence,  
To save and keep thee from infernal ill:  
Then fall to work that all the world may see,  
The joyful love betwixt thy God and thee.   

Tell of his goodness how he did create thee,  
And in his justice, how he doth correct thee,  
And in his love, how he will never hate thee,  
And that his mercy never will reject thee:  
And how he helped thee when the world distressed thee,  
And with his graces how he sweetly blest thee.   

Say, I was sick, and he did send me health,  
I was in prison, and he set me free,  
And I was poor, and he did send me wealth,  
And I was blind, and he did make me see:  
I was perplexed, and he did heal my pain,  
And being dead, he gave me life again.   

When I was lame, he did my limbs restore,  
When I was deaf, he made me hear his voice,  
When I was wounded, he did heal my sore,  
When I was sad, he made my soul rejoice:  
When I had sinned, he would not yet forsake me,  
When I was lost, he did to mercy take me.   

To say yet more, what he hath done for me,  
I needs must say, his goodness hath no end,  
Who, when on earth he saw no friend to me,  
Did make me feel I had a heavenly friend:  
A heavenly friend whose help doth fail me never,  
But is my comfort, and my king for ever.   

This is my Lord, my life, and all my love,  
My living Love, and loving life indeed,  
This is the blessing of my best behove,  
The sacred fruit whereon I sweetly feed:  
This is the joy that makes my heart to sing,  
Honour and glory to my heavenly king.   

Oh king more glorious than the world can know thee▪  
From whom the day, even from on high doth spring,  
Where glorious works unto the world do show thee,  
Of glorious love the everliving king:  
The king of life, in whom the soul doth prove,  
The highest glory of the heavenly love.   

By whose high hands were all things made at first,  
By whose deep wisdom they are governed still,  
By whom alone, are blessed or accursed.  
That love his word, or disobey his will:  
By whose sweet breath they live that do attend him,  
And by whose wrath they die that do offend him.   

For who can bide the fury of his ire?  
Or half conceive the comfort of his love?  
Who plague's his foes with an infernal fire,  
And plants his servants in the heavens above:  
Who shakes the heavens, & makes the mountains bow  
If he but once begin to knit the brow.   

And where he loves, what will he leave to do,  
To make the soul acquainted with his kindness?  
And with what joy will he the spirit woo,  
To shun the woes that grow of worldly blindness?  
What pain, or grief, or death did he refuse,  
To save their lives that he did sweetly choose?   

Now for the greatness of his glorious power,  
He is almighty and all glory his,  
He made the year, the month, day, night and hour,  
The heavens, earth, sea, and what in them there is:  
In him alone doth all their being stand,  
And live or die in his almighty hand.   

He spoke the word, and by his word they were,  
And all was good his secret wisdom did,  
His will did work his favour without fear,  
And not a thought is from his knowledge hid:  
He knows the hearts, & searcheth through the rains  
And sees the roots even of the smallest veins.   

He decked the Sky with sun & moon & stars,  
And made the seas to flow upon the sand,  
Upon whose shore his hand did set the bars,  
They shall not pass to overflow the Land.  
Amid the air he hath dispersed the Clouds,  
And only man within his mercy shrouds.   

Within the depth the fish their holes do keep,  
And in the rocks the Coney makes his house,  
Into the earth the crawling worms do creep,  
And hollow rocks are harbour for the mouse:  
The Lion keeps his den, the bird his nest,  
And man alone doth but in mercy rest.   

Yet these and all are guided by his power,  
And may not pass the passage he hath given them,  
The sun his course, the Moon must know her hour,  
And clouds must wander but where winds have driven them  
Beasts know their times, & fishes know their tides,  
And man alone in only mercy bides.   

To tell of wonders by his wisdom wrought,  
Even from the greatest to the very lest,  
Which time declares by true experience taught,  
In fish, and foul, in bird, in man and beast:  
Mark but the power, that doth in each abide,  
And how it weakens in their highest pride.   

The Lion first is fearful of the Bee,  
The Elephant doth dread the little mouse,  
Acrowing Cock the Dragon may not see,  
The stoutest Ingle subject to the louse:  
The greatest Ox a little taint worm killeth,  
And many a man a little Canker spilleth.   

Yet is the Lion feared for his force,  
The Elephant a huge and mighty beast,  
The fiery Dragon kills without remorse,  
And Eagles carry lambs unto their nest:  
The Ox the taint worm under foot doth tread,  
And man sometimes doth kill the Cankers head.   

But when that power gins to gather pride,  
Then see the strength of the almighty hand,  
By whose high help the weakest things are tried,  
To spoil the strength wherein the strongest stand:  
That they may know there is a power on high.  
In whom they live, and at his pleasure die.   

To show examples of the heavenly might,  
Against the pride of the inferior power,  
The word of truth doth give a glorious light,  
Where may be seen in minute of an hour:  
How greatest stays that on their strength were grounded,  
With headlong falls were utterly confounded.   

How Pharaoh first, the proud Egyptian king,  
That would not suffer Israel to pass,  
What plagues and griefs did the almighty bring,  
Upon the house, even where his lodging was!  
Frogs, flies, and louse did freely make their way,  
Even to the chamber where proud Pharaoh lay.   

A number plague's the Lord did further threaten,  
His Land was strooken with a darksome fear,  
His grass and corn by Grasshoppers were eaten,  
The plague destroyed his people every where:  
And last himself amidst his army crowned,  
Was in a moment in the red sea drowned.   

Yet through these seas his hand did make the way,  
Where all his servants went and wet no foot,  
Which proves, his love was his elected stay,  
While rebel hearts were torn up by the root:  
Which true example to the world may prove,  
The glorious greatness of his power and love.   

Goliath boasted greatly of his strength,  
Yet little David killed him with a stone,  
The Madian Host was strong, but yet at length,  
By gideon's hand the kings were overthrown:  
By change of tongues fell Babylon's high tower,  
And Christ his word did break the devils power.   

Yet in itself what weaker is than water,  
Which drowned proud Pharaoh with his mighty host?  
A louse or fly is of a little matter,  
Yet with such worms are men tormented most.  
What strength alas is in a little stone?  
Yet so we read Goliath overthrown.   

Know then From whence this wonder power groweth  
But from the force of the almighty hand,  
Which to the world his glorious power showeth,  
When with the weak the strongest cannot stand:  
King David written, and it is truly known,  
That power belongeth unto God alone.   

To prove the prowess of the heavenly power,  
How many more examples may be shown,  
There is no year, no day, no night, nor hour,  
But some such action to the world is known:  
That truth may well unto his glory speak,  
God is of power, and all the world is weak.   

But since the world cannot the books contain,  
Wherein his works of wonder may be writ,  
To admiration let his power remain,  
And say, All powers are subject unto it:  
And let me of his love and mercy write,  
Which is the substance of the soul's delight.   

This powerful Love, the glory of all grace,  
When he had wrought the world unto his will,  
And planted each thing in his proper place,  
And in the course that they continue still:  
Of all the works that he in wonder wrought,  
Made only man the dearest of his thought.   

For what he made he made but man to serve,  
And man to serve his only sacred love,  
And in his love doth so man's life preserve,  
As may the comfort of his care approve:  
And so approve as may this sentence give.  
His only love doth make the soul to live.   

He loved the earth when he did give it life,  
He loved the life when he his Image gave it,  
He loved the flesh that made the bone a wife,  
He loved the soul when he from death did save it:  
He loved him ever, yet he loved him most,  
To fetch him home when he himself had lost.   

Come Poets, ye that fill the world with fancies,  
Whose feigning Muses show but madding fits,  
Which all too soon do fall into those franzies,  
That are begotten by mistaking wits:  
Lay down your lives, compare your love with mine,  
And say whose virtue is the true divine.   

For further trial let me give you leave,  
To add a truth unto your idle stories,  
Wherewith so oft you do the world deceive,  
And gain yourselves but ill conceited glories,  
Yet when you see where sweetest sights are shown,  
Look on my Love, and blush to see your own,   

With sunny beauties let your loves be blest,  
The sun doth fetch his light but from my Love,  
You have your wonders from the Phoenix nest,  
Mine honour lives but in the heavens above.  
Your Muses do your Lady's praises sing,  
The Angels sing in glory of my King.   

The earth alas, from whence your loves receive  
Their flowers & sweets, their pearls & pretius stones,  
To deck themselves, with which they do deceive  
The blinded spirits of the simple ones:  
This earth from whence their outward grace's spring,  
Is but the footstool of my heavenly King.   

And if he so hath decked the earth below,  
Imagine then the glory of his seat,  
Which may persuade where Angels tremble so,  
For human eyes the glory is too great:  
For where the sun, the moon, and stars have light,  
For nature's eyes the Beauty is too bright.   

And who doth live that ever ye did love,  
But that ye could their fairest fair unfold?  
And my fair love, let fairest truth approve,  
No eye can live, in glory to behold:  
Your clearest beauty is with age declining,  
My loves bright glory is for ever shining.   

If you be wise, think where true wisdom liveth,  
And then allow the honour to my love:  
If yours be kind, think who the comfort giveth,  
And know the turkey from the turtle dove:  
If constant yours, that truth let my love try,  
Who lost his life, to save his love thereby.   

And let me see, how liveth all your love,  
But on desert the stay of all your state,  
And in my Love a further life approve,  
Who loud indeed when he had cause to hate:  
Your fancies oft for lack of favour starve,  
But my Love doth both mine and yours preserve.   

Then truly say whom chief your loves do choose,  
To cast the countenance of their favours on,  
Than whom again they wholly do refuse,  
In liking thought as most to look upon:  
Then do but look upon my love his choice,  
And whose heart most he maketh to rejoice.   

The wealth, mighty, wise and well at ease,  
Do fit the fancies of your Ladies best:  
But poor, and weak, and simple souls best please,  
My heavenly Love, to labour in his breast:  
And who the world doth utterly refuse,  
Those doth my Love unto his favour choose.   

And see what power is in your loving natures,  
To take or give what ye may gain or lose,  
And ye shall see they are but my loves creatures,  
Whose lives are at his pleasure to dispose:  
And while your favours all do fade away,  
My sweet loves blessings never will decay.   

Can ye conceive the smallest of the sweet,  
That doth descend from my soul's dearest Love,  
Upon the faith that falleth at his feet,  
That doth in prayer but his mercy prove:  
And you will blot out every idle line,  
And yield your souls unto this Love of mine.   

Compare a weed unto a wholesome flower,  
A cloudy evening to a sunny day,  
A foggy mist unto an April shower,  
November blast unto a bloom of May:  
And you shall easily see the difference plain,  
Betwixt my sunshine and your showers of rain.   

Compare mere folly to the finest wit,  
The coarsest copper to the purest gold,  
The healthful body with an ague fit,  
And set the youthful age against the old:  
The ravens foul note to Philomela's voice,  
And quickly say, which is the better choice.   

Compare foul pride to fair humility,  
A kind discretion to a dogged nature,  
The clownish race to true gentility,  
A blessed Angel to a cursed creature,  
Favours to frowns, and smiling, unto scowles,  
And say the Phoenix aches all birds but owls.   

Compare the earth unto the heaven on high,  
The spirits treasures unto fleshly toys,  
The pebble stone unto the azured Sky,  
The woes of men unto the Angel's joys:  
The lowest weakness unto the highest powers,  
Then see the difference twixt my love and yours.   

And when you see how all sweet blessings grow  
But from the ground of my loves living grace,  
And do again the imperfection know,  
Wherein you do your fond affection place:  
Then all your titles to this truth resign,  
There is no life, but in this love of mine.   

And give me leave to praise my princely love.  
Although my wits are short of such a worth,  
And let my spirit in my passions prove,  
What his high hand in mercy will bring forth:  
And writ but truth that may be truly proved,  
My only love, alonely to be loved.   

Before all times, all thoughts, all things he was,  
And ever is, and will be aye the same,  
That doth in wonder wonders wonder pass,  
In Truth's high triumph of eternal fame:  
Where life, and love, in grace and glory crowned,  
Do sway the Sceptre of the heauns renowned.   

Now what he was, cannot be comprehended,  
Who in himself doth all things comprehend,  
And when that all things shall be wholly ended,  
Himself, his word, his will shall never end:  
Whose gracious life, all glorious love beginning.  
Doth add all grace, and endless glory winning.   

And of his Essence, this is all we find,  
A spirit fully incomprehensible,  
A loving God, unto his servants kind,  
And in his human nature sensible:  
In wisdoms wonder, knowledge, quintessence,  
And in that Essence highest excellence.   

The high Creator of all creatures living,  
The sweet Redeemer of his servants lost,  
The glorious grace, all grace and glory giving,  
The joy of joys, that glads the spirit most:  
The love of life, and life of love indeed,  
'Gainst death and hell, that stands the soul in steed.   

His seat is heaven, the earth his footstool is,  
His chiefest dwelling with his souls elected,  
His joy to love, and to be loved of his,  
His favour, life, unto his loves affected:  
His word is truth, which doth the spirit try,  
Where fruitful faith shall live, and never die.   

His blessing is the peace of conscience,  
His comfort mercy's contemplation,  
His precious gift, the spirits patience,  
His mercy, virtues meditation:  
His grace the oil, that kills the spirits evil,  
His death the life, that did subdue the devil.   

His garments are the sundry sorts of graces,  
His tribute is but sinner's sacrifice,  
His work, the planting virtues in their places,  
His gain, the love of humble spirits service:  
His music Psalms, that angels never cease  
To sing in glory of the King of Peace.   

This King of peace, this God of life and love,  
Who in himself doth all, and only hold,  
The highest blessings of the hearts behove,  
That faithful truth hath to the spirit told:  
This is the substance of my soul's delight,  
Unworthy subject of his worth to write.   

Yet as his mercy will vouchsafe me grace,  
With intercession of his high assistance,  
Against the power that would my thoughts deface,  
And proudly make against the soul resistance:  
I will a little give his love a tuch,  
Whose smallest praise is for my pen too much.   

What love was that which made him like man best,  
Of all the works that ever he created,  
What love again did in that liking rest,  
To love him so he never can be hated:  
What love was more to give the man a wife,  
What love was most to die to give him life.   

The earth within with silver gems and gold,  
Without with trees and herbs, and fruits and flowers,  
The waters deep where fishes keep their hold,  
The Elements with all their inward powers:  
These hath my Love all made for man to choose,  
And to his pleasure in his service use.   

The fire was made to kill the chilling cold.  
The water made to slack the burning heat,  
The subtle air a secret breath to hold,  
The earth to dry when moisture is too great:  
These cross in natures yet do meet in one,  
Only to serve the use of man alone.   

Each bird, each beast, each foul, and every fish,  
The flesh of man must serve to  and feed,  
What eye can see, or heart of man can wish,  
But some way serves to stand poor men in steed.  
And for that cause their being first began.  
From mercy's Love, to serve the life of man.   

The light was made to glad the lightsome eye,  
The sound to please the pure attentive ear,  
The air to draw a living breath thereby,  
The earth, the body, and the limbs to bear:  
The clouds, the stars, the sun, the moon, the Sky,  
Were made for man, to make him look on high.   

All these were made out of the mould of Love,  
Was never Love came ever near to this,  
Which doth a wonder in affection prove,  
Even when we least deserved the love of his:  
For when our souls did most offences do him,  
He came himself in love to call us to him,   

To make, redeem, preserve, defend, and cherish,  
His faithful souls, and so in love to nourish,  
As in his love, their lives shall never perish,  
But like the Lily live and ever flourish:  
Are these not points sufficient to approve,  
The true affection of a peerless Love?   

Yet more to say, that truly may be said,  
In humble honour of this heavenly Love,  
In mercy's sweet to make the soul dismayed,  
To see the blessing of his God above:  
The loving spirit lively to refresh,  
He let his servants see him in the flesh.   

To see him so, as might not hurt their sight,  
For none might see his high supernal power,  
But in his love to see that glorious light,  
That gains that sweet that cuts off every sour  
The second person of himself, his son,  
In whom are all things to his glory done.   

And see the cause why so he came unto us,  
His only love the only cause we live,  
And when we came, what comfort did he do us,  
To save our lives, his Love his life did give:  
And so to save us from the fire of hell,  
That with his Love we might for ever dwell.   

What Love was this, to leave his heavenly seat  
Among his angels, all in glory served,  
To come to man who did too ill entreat  
The sacred Love, that hath his life preserved,  
From being honoured, praised and glorified,  
To be disgraced, whipped, and crucified.   

In love he left his highest heavenly pleasures,  
Above his Angels in their heaps of joys,  
To live on earth in sorrows out of measures,  
With change of nothing but the world's annoys:  
In toil and travel, long in love he sought us,  
And with his death at last full dearly bought us.   

Oh woeful travail that he undertook,  
To bring our lives unto his sacred love,  
Which pain, nor cross, nor death itself forsook,  
That to our faith might his affection prove:  
Which left the spirit of his love behind him,  
To show the love that seeks him, how to find him.   

In love he came, that he might comfort do us,  
In love went from us, to provide our places,  
In love he sent his comforter unto us,  
In love he guides us with his holy graces:  
In love he made, bought, keeps and guides us thus,  
And shall not we love him that so loved us?   

Yes my dear Lord, be thou my dearest love,  
For Christ his sake, let my soul never leave thee.  
Who in thy love, thy living truth doth prove,  
That makes me find the world doth all deceive me:  
And were there truth on earth as there is none,  
Yet were thy love the joy of life alone.   

And let these tears be witness of my love,  
Which first do beg remission of my sin,  
And in repentance do but mercy move,  
To open the gates of grace and let me in:  
Where humble faith but at thy feet may fall,  
With my soul's service, love, and life, and all.   

Forget O Lord, my works of wickedness,  
Whereby my soul with sorrow is oppressed,  
And with the finger of thy holiness,  
In mercy touch my spirit so distressed:  
And save my life that draweth nigh to hell,  
Love mea little, and I shall be well.   

Love? no sweet Lord mercy I crave no more,  
My sins are such, I dare not speak of love,  
But in thy mercy, to thy love restore  
My humble faith, that may but mercy prove:  
And so approve, that all the world may see,  
The joyful love betwixt my God and me.   

Oh call me home, and make me hear thy call,  
And hear thee so, that I may run unto thee,  
And hold me fast that I may never fall,  
But that my soul may ever service do thee:  
Show some good token, that the world may know,  
My soul is blest, whom thou hast loved so.   

And while I live here in this wretched vale,  
Of fearful danger of infernal death,  
Where earthly pleasures take those souls to sale,  
Which have their bargain in the hell beneath:  
Let my soul's love, and life, and labour be,  
To seek my joy, my love, and life in thee.   

Make me not rich lest I forget to think,  
From whence I have the comfort of my heart,  
Nor in such want, let thy poor servant sink,  
That I be driven to crave the needy part:  
Give me but means the needy to relieve,  
To feed thy flock, and not the wolf to grieve.   

Let me not listen to the sinners songs,  
But to the Psalms thy holy saints do sing,  
Nor let me follow tyrants in their wrongs,  
But kiss the rock where righteousness doth spring:  
Let not mine eye affect the outward part,  
But let me love the virtue of the heart.   

And let my love be, to behold thy love,  
And let my love be, but to live in thee,  
And so to live, that all the world may prove,  
The gracious good my God hath done for me:  
To call my soul out of this world of woe,  
In faithful love to serve my Saviour so.   

And when they see the blot of all their blame,  
To love the world, but all in wretched toys,  
And do confess with inward blushing shame,  
They are but sorrows unto heavenly joys:  
They may with me forsake all worldly pleasure,  
And make thy love an everlasting treasure.   

For Lord by thee we are, in thee we live.  
And in thy love the living cannot die,  
And since thy death did our lives wholly give,  
For thy loves sake shall we affection fly?  
No my dear Lord, let life be death to me,  
So I may die to live in love with thee.   

A joyful life were such a death indeed,  
From earthly pain to pass to heavenly pleasure,  
A joyful line for loving hearts to read,  
To leave the flesh, to take the spirits treasure:  
Whose glorious sense unto the sun doth fall,  
That all is nothing to that all in all.   

And I (alas) of many thousand souls,  
Unworthy most of his high worth to write,  
Who in his mercies true record inrowles  
The loving substance of the soul's delight,  
Must mercy cry, for fear my loves presuming  
Of too high sense, may be my souls consuming.   

And with the tears of true repentant love,  
Looking upon the wonders of that wonder,  
That in his least perfection may approve  
The greatest wisdom of the world put under,  
Confess my wit as short to pen his praise,  
As darkest nights in light of clearest days.   

And say but this in grace and glories height,  
Where virtues love doth live for ever crowned,  
And all the Host of heaven and heavens await,  
Upon the highest of the heavens renowned:  
Whom Saints and Angels trembling do adore,  
To him alone be praise for evermore.   

If honour praise and glory ever be,  
Unto my loving everlasting King,  
This King of life who so hath loved me,  
To give my soul this gracious power to sing:  
In heart and mind, in man and Angels love,  
All glorious glory be to God above.   Nicholas Britton. 
FINIS.