THE Souls Harmony.  
Written by Nicholas Breton.  
Imprinted at London by S. Stafford, for Randoll Bearkes: And are to be sold at the sign of the white Unicorn in Popes-head Alley. 1602.   

To the right Honourable and virtuous Lady, the Lady Sara Hastings, Nicholas Breton wisheth all happiness in this world, and eternal joys hereafter.  
RIght Honourable, your zealous love to divine studies, hath made the Muses of that Nature, to present your favour, with the best fruits of their delights, which in the exercise of their spiritual Contemplations, have brought forth these comfortable Meditations: which bound up in this little volume, they have presumed with my service, to present to your good Ladyship, beseeching the same, with that good favour to accept them, that may under heaven be the greatest grace, that they desire unto them. It is entitled, The Harmony of the Soul, who in the gracious thoughts of God's blessing, and humble talk with his mercy, thinks herself half in heaven ere she come there: where, after that you have passed a happy pilgrimage on this earth, God send you the eternal felicity of the faithful.  
Your Ladyships in all humbleness, Nicholas Breton.   

The Souls Harmony.  

God.  
GRace in all Glories height,  
On whom all Glories wait,  
Describes my joys conceit.    


JESUS.  
Joy in the highest of the height of joy,  
Holding the state of the Celestial story  
Eternal life, that doth all deaths destroy,  
Son to that grace, that makes the Father's Glory,  
Unmatched Power, in Mercies Princely might:  
Such is the substance of my Souls delight.    


CHRIST.  
Clear is the Sun, that doth for ever shine,  
Heavenly that light, that gives all eyes their seeing,  
Royal that Crown, which never can decline,  
Imperious Power, that gives all powers their being.  
Such is the Power, the Crown, the Light, the Sun,  
That never ends where Glory first begun.    


MY souls loves life, & life's loves soul's delight,  
How highly are thy holy Angels blest,  
That in thy grace enjoy the glorious sight,  
Wherein the sum of all their joy doth rest!   

What heavenly music may those Muses sing,  
Who set their consorts by thy sacred skill,  
And Angels quavers make the Choir to ring,  
While virtues Air do all the voices fill?   

How may those Spirits be with joys possessed,  
That may be ravished with this Royal sight,  
Where Peter saw, and in his seeing blest  
My soul's life's love, and loves life's souls delight!   

Oh blessed Peter, blest in such a seeing:  
Well might he sing, Sweet Lord, here is good being.    


O Gracious God, and Lord of mercy's might,  
Why do I live amid this world of woes?  
When every day doth seem to me as night,  
While sorrows seek my Spirits overthrows.   

I hear thy word, and would obey thy will,  
But want the power, that might perform my due:  
I know the good, and fain would leave the ill,  
And fear the sorrow, that doth sin ensue:   

And yet I fall into that depth of sin,  
That makes me fear the judgement of thy wrath,  
Until thy grace doth all my help begin,  
To know what comfort, Faith in Mercy hath.   

Oh blessed light, that shows in Mercies eye,  
While faith doth live, that love can never die.    


LOrd, when I think how I offend thy will,  
And know what good is in obedience to it,  
And see my hurt, and yet continue still  
In doing ill, and cannot leave to do it;   

And then again, do feel that bitter smart,  
That inward breeds, of pleasures after pain,  
When scarce the thought is entered in my heart,  
But it is gone, and sin gets in again:   

And when, again, the act of sin is past,  
And that thy grace doth call me back again:  
Then in my tears I run to thee as fast,  
And of my sins, and of myself complain.   

What can I do, but cry, Sweet jesus, save me▪  
For I am nothing, but what thou wilt have me.    


O Lord that livest in that life of life,  
Which all thou art, and of thyself alone:  
Whose sacred word is that souls cutting knife,  
That doth divide the marrow from the bone.   

O glorious God, of grace and mercy more,  
Then heart and soul are able to conceive,  
And seest the tears that mercy doth implore,  
And wilt not Faith in fears discomfort leave.   

My God, my Lord, my soul's life's dearest love,  
How so my sins have thy displeasure moved,  
Let my soulesteares thy glorious mercy move,  
To make me feel, how faith may be beloved,   

That being set from sin and sorrow free,  
I may not cease to sing in praise of thee.    


MY heavenly Love, from that high throne of thine  
Where gracious mercy sits in Glories seat,  
In that true pity of thy Power divine,  
That dries the tears, that mercy do entreat,   

Behold, sweet Lord, these bleeding drops of love,  
That melt my soul in sorrow of my sin,  
And let these showers some drops of mercy move,  
That in my grief my comfort may begin.   

Let not despair confound my praying hope,  
That begs an alms at thy mercy's gate:  
But let thy grace thy hand of bounty open,  
That comfort yields, which never comes too late,   

That in the cure of my consuming grief,  
My joyful soul may sing of thy relief.    


OH, that my soul were purified so,  
It might no more be subject unto sin,  
And that my care might only seek to know,  
How humble grace doth mercy's love begin.   

Oh, that my thoughts, my words & deeds were such,  
As might not serve from my dear saviours will,  
And that my truth might never have a touch  
Of false conceit, for to excuse mine ill,   

And that this world were unto me a hell,  
But where I see his Saints in their loves service,  
And I might die, till I might live to dwell  
In some such place, to do some pleasing office,   

That he might be, who doth my death destroy▪  
All above all, and all in all, my joy..    


THe worldly prince doth in his Sceptre hold  
A kind of heaven in his authorities:  
The wealthy miser, in his mass of gold,  
Makes to his soul a kind of Paradise:   

The Epicure, that eats and drinks all day,  
Accounts no Heaven, but in his hellish routs:  
And she, whose beauty seems a sunny day,  
Makes up her heaven, but in her babies clouts.   

But, my sweet God, I seek no Princes power,  
No miser's wealth, nor beauty's fading gloss,  
Which pamper sin, whose sweets are inward sour,  
And sorry gains, that breed the Spirits loss.   

No, my dear Lord, let my Heaven only be  
In my Lovesseruice, but to live to thee.    


O God, forgive the greatness of my fin:  
I am not worthy to implore thy Grace,  
The loathsome stink, that I lie tumbling in,  
With filthy shame hath covered all my face.   

I have deserved the depth of all thine ire,  
To know thy will, yet wilfully offend,  
My soul deserves, in the infernal fire,  
To feel the torments that shall never end.   

But Lord, thy mercy is above thy wrath,  
Thou dost not joy, to see a sinner's death,  
And true repentance in thy mercy hath  
The blessed food, that gives the spirit breath,   

Where praying hope, in heart can perish never.  
While humble faith doth live in joy for ever.    


WHat is the gold of all this world? but dross;  
The joy, but sorrow, and the pleasure, pain,  
The wealth, but beggary, & the gain but loss,  
The wit, but folly, and the virtue vain;   

The power, but weakness, and but death the life,  
The hope, but fear, and the assurance doubt,  
The trust, deceit, the concord but a strife,  
Where one conceit doth put another out;   

Time but an instant, and the use a toil,  
The knowledge, blindness, & the care a madness,  
The silver, lead, the diamond, but a foil,  
The rest, but trouble, and the mirth but sadness.   

Thus since to heaven compared, the earth is such,  
What thing is man, to love the world so much?    


OH, would man think but on that world of joy,  
Which in the heavens the chosen shall receive,  
And then again, upon this world's annoy,  
Where hellish baits the wicked do deceive!   

Would he but look upon the Angel's graces,  
The Paradises of their heavenly pleasures,  
And then, upon the devils ugly faces,  
With all their torments endless without measures!   

Would men thus make a difference in their minds,  
Twixt light and darkness, and the day, and night,  
Then would sin die, that with illusion blinds  
The eye of nature from her blessed sight,   

And man would love the good, & hate the evil  
And honour God, and tread upon the devil.    


SOme heavenly Muse come help me sing,  
In Glory of my heavenly King:  
And from some holy Angel's wing,  
Where Graces do for feathers spring,  
Oh bring my hand one blessed Pen,  
To write beyond the reach of men:   

Let all the subject be of Grace,  
Where Mercy set in Glories place,  
Doth stand before that shining face,  
That makes all other beauty base:  
That Heaven and earth may see the wonder,  
That puts all worths and wonders under:   

Let Virtues only set the grounds,  
Where Grace but all of Glory sounds,  
While Mercy heals the spirits wounds:  
Where faith the fear of death confounds:  
That heaven and earth may joy to hear,  
The Music of the Angels queer.   

Oh tell the world, no world can tell,  
How that joy doth all joys excel,  
Where blessed souls set free from hell,  
In Mercy do with Glory dwell,  
And with the Saint, and Angels sing,  
In glory of their heavenly King:   

Sink not a note beneath the sense,  
Of Glories highest excellence,  
And keep unto that only Tence,  
Where heavens have all their honour thence:  
That Seraphins may clap their wings,  
To hear how Grace, of Glory sings.   

Oh, let the Sun in brightness shine,  
And never let the Moon decline,  
And every star his light refine,  
Before that blessed light divine:  
Of whom, in whom, from whom alone,  
They have their shining every one.   

Let all the Azure sky be clear,  
And not a misty cloud come near,  
But all that brightest light appear,  
Where Angels make their merry cheer,  
And all the troup of heavens may see,  
Where all the joys of heaven may be.   

Let Phoebus in his brightness stay:  
And drive the darksome nights away,  
And Virgins, Saints, and Angels play,  
While Martyrs keep high holiday:  
And all the host of heaven accord,  
To sing in glory of the Lord.   

Let all the year be Summer's spring,  
And Nightingales all Birds that sing,  
And all the fruits that grow or spring,  
Be brought unto this glorious King,  
With all their colours and their sweets,  
Before his feet to strew the streets:   

Let honeydews perfume the air,  
That all may be both sweet and fair,  
That may with Mercies leave repair,  
Unto the seat of Glories Chair:  
That every thing may fitting fall,  
Unto the Glory of them all.   

Let all the hearts, the souls, the minds,  
That wisdom unto virtue binds,  
And breeds but of those blessed kinds,  
That gracious love in glory finds,  
Agree together all in one,  
To glorify our God alone.   

And when they all in turn are set,  
And in their sweetest music met,  
And highest skill the note hath fet,  
Where grace may highest glory get;  
My ravished soul in mercy then,  
May have but leave to sing, Amen.   
Gloria in excelsis Deo.   


Praise, in the highest of the height of praise,  
Strain up thy heart unto thy spirits note,  
There, 〈◊〉 the worth, where all thy wonder stays,  
Write to the wits of all the world to quote:   

Tell them, oh tell them, that thou canst not tell,  
What grace and glory thy dear God deserveth,  
Whose Excellence all excellence doth excel,  
While him alone, all excellency serveth.   

Life, love, truth, power, grace, pity, bounty, glory,  
Health, comfort, wisdom, virtue, mercy, peace;  
These in the state of the celestial story,  
Do sound the glory that shall never cease,   

Whose holy praises to more height arise,  
Then earth or heaven, or Angels can devise:   
Gloria in excelsis Deo.   


O That my heart could hit upon a strain,  
Would strike the music of my soul's desire:  
Or that my soul could find that sacred vain,  
That sets the consort of the Angel's Choir:   

Or that that Spirit of especial grace,  
That cannot stoop beneath the state of heaven,  
Within my soul would take his settled place,  
With Angels Ens, to make his glory even.   

Then should the name of my most gracious King,  
And glorious God, in higher tunes be sounded,  
Of heavenly praise, than earth hath power to sing,  
Where heaven & earth, & Angels are confounded.   

And souls may sing while all heartstrings are broken,  
His praise is more, then can in praise be spoken.   
Gloria in excelsis Deo.   


WHen job had lost his children, lands & goods,  
Patience did kill the poison of his pain:  
And when his sorrows came as fast as floods,  
Hope kept his heart, till comforts came again.   

When David's life by Saul was often sought,  
And worlds of crosses compassed him about,  
Yet was his spirit never overwrought,  
But in his woes, hope still did help him out.   

When the sore Cripple by the pool did lie,  
Full many a year in misery and pain,  
His heart on Christ no sooner set his eye,  
But tears moved grace, and he was well again.   

No job, nor David, Cripple more in grief:  
Christ give me patience, and my hope relief.    
FINIS.