' L \ r r~v r~r~\ ~* S 1 h L-A.J i JL.V. [ B H D THE CLOISTER LIBRARY Edited by A. R. WALLER THE TEMPLE AND A PRIEST to the TEMPLE |M||l|l||lllUMIIIII VW llllllllHIItPii ' ' ' 'Illlllllll ' ' IIIHNIH'i -i|. Mill THE TEMPLE 4 * A PRIEST to the TEMPLE By George Herbert Edited by A. R. Waller LONDON: J. M. DENT 5* CO. 29 6- 30, Bedford Street, Covent Garden W.C. Printed by BALI.ANTYNE, HANSON & Co. At the Ballantyne Press THE TEMPLE. SACRED POEMS AND PRIVATE EJA- CULATIONS. By Mr. GEORGE HERBERT. PSAL. 29. In bis 'Temple doth every man f peak of his honour. CAMBRIDGE: Printed by Thorn. and Roger 'Daniel, printers to the Univerfitie. The Dedication. Lord, my Jirst fruits present themselves to thee ; Tet not mine neither: for from thee they came, And must return. Accept of them and ms, And make us strive, who shall sing best thy name. Turn their eyes hither, tuho shall make a gain : Theirs, 'who shall hurt themselves or me, refrain. THE PRINTERS TO THE READER dedication of this work having been made by the Authour to the Divine Majestic onely, how should we now presume to interest any mortall man in the patronage of it ? Much lesse think we it meet to seek the recommendation of the Muses, for that which himself was confident to have been inspired by a diviner breath then flows from He/icon. The world therefore shall receive it in that naked simplicitie, with which he left it, without any addition either of support or ornament, more then is included in it self. We leave it free and unforestalled to every mans judgement, and to the benefit that he shall finde by perusall. Onely for the clearing of some passages, we have thought it not unfit to make the common Reader privie to some few particularities of the condition and disposition of the Person ; Being nobly born, and as eminently endued with gifts of the minde, and having by industrie and happy education perfected them to that great height of excel- lencie, whereof his fellowship of Trinitie Colledge in Cambridge, and his Orator-ship in the Universitie, together with that knowledge which the Kings Court had taken of him, could make relation farre above ordinarie. Quitting both his deserts and all the opportunities that he had for worldly preferment, he betook himself to the Sanctuarie and Temple of God, choosing rather to serve at Gods Altar, then to seek THE PRINTERS TO THE READER the honour of State-employments. As for those in- ward enforcements to this course (for outward there was none) which many of these ensuing verses bear witnesse of, they detract not from the freedome, but adde to the honour of this resolution in him. As God had enabled him, so he accounted him meet not onely to be called, but to be compelled to this service : Wherein his faithfull discharge was such, as may make him justly a companion to the primitive Saints, and a pattern or more for the age he lived in. To testifie his independencie upon all others, and to quicken his diligence in this kinde, he used in his ordinarie speech, when he made mention of the blessed name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, to adde, My Master. Next God, he loved that which God himself hath magnified above all things, that is, his Word : so as he hath been heard to make solemne protestation, that he would not part with one leaf thereof for the whole world, if it were offered him in exchange. His obedience and conformitie to the Church and the discipline thereof was singularly remarkable. Though he abounded in private devotions, yet went he every morning and evening with his familie to the Church ; and by his example, exhortations, and encouragements drew the greater part of his parish- ioners to accompanie him dayly in the publick celebration of Divine Service. As for worldly matters, his love and esteem to them was so little, as no man can more ambitiously seek, then he did earnestly endeavour the resignation of an Ecclesiasticall dignitie, which he was possessour of. But God permitted not the accomplishment of this desire, having ordained him his instrument for THE PRINTERS TO THE READER reedifying of the Church belonging thereunto, that had layen ruinated almost twenty yeares. The reparation whereof, having been uneffectually attempted by publick collections, was in the end by his own and some few others private free-will-offerings succesfully effected. With the remembrance whereof, as of an especiall good work, when a friend went about to comfort him on his death -bed, he made answer, // is a good work, if it be sprinkled with the Uoud of Christ : otherwise then in this respect he could finde nothing to glorie or comfort himself with, neither in this, nor in any other thing. And these are but a few of many that might be said, which we have chosen to premise as a glance to some parts of the ensuing book, and for an example to the Reader. We conclude all with his own Motto, with which he used to conclude all things that might seem to tend any way to his own honour ; Lesse then the least of Gods mercies. IX * * * * n*^**^** The Temple * THE CHURCH-PORCH Perirrhanterium whose sweet youth and early hopes inhance Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure ; Hearken unto a Verser, who may chance Ryme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure. A verse may finde him, who a sermon flies, And turn delight into a sacrifice. Beware of lust : it doth pollute and foul Whom God in Baptisme washt with his own blood. It blots thy lesson written in thy soul ; The holy lines cannot be understood. How dare those eyes upon a Bible look, Much lesse towards God, whose lust is all their book ? Abstain wholly, or wed. Thy bounteous Lord Allows thee choise of paths : take no by-wayes ; But gladly welcome what he doth afford ; Not grudging, that thy lust hath bounds and staies. Continence hath his joy : weigh both ; and so If rottennesse have more, let Heaven go. I THE CHURCH-PORCH If God had laid all common, certainly Man would have been th'incloser : but since now God hath impal'd us on the contrarie Man breaks the fence, and every ground will plough. O what were man, might he himself misplace Sure to be crosse he would shift feet and face. Drink not the third glasse, which thou canst not tame, When once it is within thee ; but before Mayst rule it, as thou list ; and poure the shame, Which it would poure on thee, upon the floore. It is most just to throw that on the ground, Which would throw me there, if I keep the round. He that is drunken, may his mother kill Bigge with his sister : he hath lost the reins, Is outlaw'd by himself: all kinde of ill Did with his liquour slide into his veins. The drunkard forfets Man, and doth devest All worldly right, save what he hath by beast. Shall I, to please anothers wine-sprung minde, Lose all mine own ? God hath giv'n me a measure Short of his canne, and bodie ; must I finde A pain in that, wherein he findes a pleasure ? Stay at the third glasse : if thou lose thy hold, Then thou are modest, and the wine grows bold. If reason move not Gallants, quit the room, (All in a shipwrack shift their severall way) Let not a common ruine thee intombe : Be not a beast in courtesie ; but stay, Stay at the third cup, or forgo the place. Wine above all things doth Gods stamp deface. THE CHURCH-PORCH Yet, if thou sinne in wine or wantonnesse, Boast not thereof ; nor make thy shame thy glorie. Frailtie gets pardon by submissivenesse ; But he that boasts, shuts that out of his storie. He makes flat warre with God, and doth defie With his poore clod of earth the spacious sky. Take not his name, who made thy mouth, in vain : It gets thee nothing, and hath no excuse. Lust and wine plead a pleasure, avarice gain : But the cheap swearer through his open sluce Lets his soul runne for nought, as little fearing. Were I an Epicure, I could bate swearing. When thou dost tell anothers jest, therein Omit the oathes, which true wit cannot need : Pick out of tales the mirth, but not the sinne. He pares his apple, that will cleanly feed. Play not away the vertue of that name, Which is thy best stake, when griefs make thee tame. The cheapest sinnes most dearely punisht are ; Because to shun them also is so cheap : For we have wit to mark them, and to spare. O crumble not away thy souls fair heap. If thou wilt die, the gates of hell are broad : Pride and full sinnes have made the way a road. Lie not ; but let thy heart be true to God, Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both : Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod ; The stormie working soul spits lies and froth. Dare to be true. Nothing can need a ly : A fault, which needs it most, grows two thereby. 3 THE CHURCH-PORCH Flie idlenesse, which yet thou canst not flie By dressing, mistressing, and complement. If those take up thy day, the sunne will crie Against thee : for his light was onely lent. God gave thy soul brave wings ; put not those feathers Into a bed, to sleep out all ill weathers. Art thou a Magistrate ? then be severe : If studious ; copie fair, what time hath blurr'd ; Redeem truth from his jawes : if souldier, Chase brave employments with a naked sword Throughout the world. Fool not : for all may have, If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. O England ! full of sinne, but most of sloth ; Spit out thy flegme, and fill thy brest with glorie : Thy Gentrie bleats, as if thy native cloth Transfus'd a sheepishnesse into thy storie : Not that they all are so ; but that the most Are gone to grasse, and in the pasture lost. This losse springs chiefly from our education. Some till their ground, but let weeds choke their sonne : Some mark a partridge, never their childes fashion : Some ship them over, and the thing is done. Studie this art, make it thy great designe ; And if Gods image move thee not, let thine. Some great estates provide, but doe not breed A mast'ring minde ; so both are lost thereby : Or els they breed them tender, make them need All that they leave : this is flat povertie. For he, that needs five thousand pound to live, Is full as poore as he, that needs but five. 4 THE CHURCH-PORCH The way to make thy sonne rich, is to fill His minde with rest, before his trunk with riches : For wealth without contentment, climbes a hill To feel those tempests, which fly over ditches. But if thy sonne can make ten pound his measure, Then all thou addest may be call'd his treasure. When thou dost purpose ought, (within thy power) Be sure to doe it, though it be but small : Constancie knits the bones, and makes us stowre, When wanton pleasures becken us to thrall. Who breaks his own bond, forfeiteth himself: What nature made a ship, he makes a shelf. Doe all things like a man, not sneakingly : Think the king sees thee still ; for his King does. Simpring is but a lay-hypocrisie : Give it a corner, and the clue undoes. Who fears to do ill, sets himself to task : Who fears to do well, sure should wear a mask. Look to thy mouth ; diseases enter there. Thou hast two sconses, if thy stomack call ; Carve, or discourse ; do not a famine fear. Who carves, is kind to two ; who talks, to all. Look on meat, think it dirt, then eat a bit ; And say withall, Earth to earth I commit. Slight those who say amidst their sickly healths, Thou liv'st by rule. What doth not so, but man ? Houses are built by rule, and common-wealths. Entice the trusty sunne, if that you can, From his Ecliptick line : becken the skie. Who lives by rule then, keeps good companie. 5 THE CHURCH-PORCH Who keeps no guard upon himself, is slack, And rots to nothing at the next great thaw. Man is a shop of rules, a well truss'd pack, Whose every parcell under-writes a law. Lose not thy self, nor give thy humours way : God gave them to thee under lock and key. By all means use sometimes to be alone. Salute thy self: see what thy soul doth wear. Dare to look in thy chest ; for 'tis thine own : And tumble up and down what thou find'st there. Who cannot rest till hee good fellows finde, He breaks up house, turns out of doores his minde. Be thriftie, but not covetous : therefore give Thy need, thine honour, and thy friend his due. Never was scraper brave man. Get to live ; Then live, and use it : els, it is not true That thou hast gotten. Surely use alone Makes money not a contemptible stone. Never exceed thy income. Youth may make Ev'n with the yeare : but age, if it will hit, Shoots a bow short, and lessens still his stake, As the day lessens, and his life with it. Thy children, kindred, friends upon thee call ; Before thy journey fairly part with all. Yet in thy thriving still misdoubt some evil ; Lest gaining gain on thee, and make thee dimme To all things els. Wealth is the conjurers devil ; Whom when he thinks he hath, the devil hath him. Gold thou mayst safely touch ; but if it stick Unto thy hands, it woundeth to the quick. 6 THE CHURCH-PORCH What skills it, if a bag of stones or gold About thy neck do drown thee ? raise thy head ; Take starres for money ; starres not to be told By any art, yet to be purchased. None is so wasteful! as the scraping dame. She loseth three for one ; her soul, rest, fame. By no means runne in debt : take thine own measure. Who cannot live on twentie pound a yeare, Cannot on fourtie : he's a man of pleasure, A kinde of thing that's for it self too deere. The curious unthrift makes his cloth too wide, And spares himself, but would his taylor chide. Spend not on hopes. They that by pleading clothes Do fortunes seek, when worth and service fail, Would have their tale beleeved for their oathes, And are like empty vessels under sail. Old courtiers know this ; therefore set out so, As all the day thou mayst hold out to go. In clothes, cheap handsomnesse doth bear the bell. Wisedome's a trimmer thing, then shop e're gave. Say not then, This with that lace will do well ; But, This with my discretion will be brave. Much curiousnesse is a perpetuall wooing Nothing with labour ; folly long a doing. Play not for gain, but sport. Who playes for more, Then he can lose with pleasure, stakes his heart ; Perhaps his wives too, and whom she hath bore : Servants and churches also play their part. Onely a herauld, who that way doth passe, Findes his crackt name at length in the church-glasse. 7 THE CHURCH-PORCH If yet thou love game at so deere a rate, Learn this, that hath old gamesters deerely cost : Dost lose ? rise up : dost winne ? rise in that state. Who strive to sit out losing hands, are lost. Game is a civil gunpowder, in peace Blowing up houses with their whole increase. In conversation boldnesse now bears sway. But know, that nothing can so foolish be, As empty boldnesse : therefore first assay To stuffe thy minde with solid braverie ; Then march on gallant : get substantiall worth. Boldnesse guilds finely, and will set it forth. Be sweet to all. Is thy complexion sowre ? Then keep such companie ; make them thy allay : Get a sharp wife, a servant that will lowre. A stumbler stumbles least in rugged way. Command thy self in chief. He lifes warre knows, Whom all his passions follow, as he goes. Catch not at quarrels. He that dares not speak Plainly and home, is coward of the two. Think not thy fame at ev'ry twitch will break : By great deeds shew, that thou canst little do ; And do them not : that shall thy wisdome be ; And change thy temperance into braverie. If that thy fame with ev'ry toy be pos'd, 'Tis a thinne webbe, which poysonous fancies make : But the great souldiers honour was compos'd Of thicker stuffe, which would endure a shake. Wisdome picks friends ; civilitie playes the rest. A toy shunn'd cleanly passeth with the best. THE CHURCH-PORCH Laugh not too much : the wittie man laughs least : For wit is newes onely to ignorance. Lesse at thine own things laugh ; lest in the jest Thy person share, and the conceit advance. Make not thy sport, abuses : for the fly That feeds on dung, is coloured thereby. Pick out of mirth, like stones out of thy ground, Profanenesse, filthinesse, abusivenesse. These are the scumme, with which course wits abound : The fine may spare these well, yet not go lesse. All things are bigge with jest : nothing that's plain, But may be wittie, if thou hast the vein. Wit's an unruly engine, wildly striking Sometimes a friend, sometimes the engineer. Hast thou the knack ? pamper it not with liking : But if thou want it, buy it not too deere. Many affecting wit beyond their power, Have got to be a deare fool for an houre. A sad wise valour is the brave complexion, That leads the van, and swallows up the cities. The gigler is a milk-maid, whom infection, Or a fir'd beacon frighteth from his ditties. Then he's the sport : the mirth then in him rests, And the sad man is cock of all his jests. Towards great persons use respective boldnesse : That temper gives them theirs, and yet doth take Nothing from thine : in service, care, or coldnesse Doth ratably thy fortunes marre or make. Feed no man in his sinnes : for adulation Doth make thee parcell-devil in damnation. 9 THE CHURCH-PORCH Envie not greatnesse : for thou mak'st thereby Thy self the worse, and so the distance greater. Be not thine own worm : yet such jealousie, As hurts not others, but may make thee better, Is a good spurre. Correct thy passions spite ; Then may the beasts draw thee to happy light. When basenesse is exalted, do not bate The place its honour, for the persons sake. The shrine is that which thou dost venerate ; And not the beast, that bears it on his back. I care not though the cloth of state should be Not of rich arras, but mean tapestrie. Thy friend put in thy bosome : wear his eies Still in thy heart, that he may see what's there. If cause require, thou art his sacrifice ; Thy drops of bloud must pay down all his fear : But love is lost ; the way of friendship's gone, Though David had his Jonathan, Christ his John, Yet be not surety, if thou be a father. Love is a personall debt. I cannot give My childrens right, nor ought he take it : rather Both friends should die, then hinder them to live. Fathers first enter bonds to natures ends ; And are her sureties, ere they are a friends. If thou be single, all thy goods and ground Submit to love ; but yet not more then all. Give one estate, as one life. None is bound To work for two, who brought himself to thrall. God made me one man ; love makes me no more, Till labour come, and make my weaknesse score. 10 THE CHURCH-PORCH In thy discourse, if thou desire to please : All such is courteous, usefull, new, or wittie. Usefulnesse comes by labour, wit by ease ; Courtesie grows in court ; news in the citie. Get a good stock of these, then draw the card ; That suites him best, of whom thy speech is heard. Entice all neatly to what they know best ; For so thou dost thy self and him a pleasure : (But a proud ignorance will lose his rest, Rather then shew his cards) steal from his treasure What to ask further. Doubts well rais'd do lock The speaker to thee, and preserve thy stock. If thou be Master-gunner, spend not all That thou canst speak, at once ; but husband it, And give men turns of speech : do not forestall By lavishnesse thine own, and others wit, As if thou mad'st thy will. A civil guest Will no more talk all, then eat all the feast. Be calm in arguing : for fiercenesse makes Errour a fault, and truth discourtesie. Why should I feel another mans mistakes More, then his sicknesses or povertie ? In love I should : but anger is not love, Nor wisdome neither : therefore gently move. Calmnesse is great advantage : he that lets Another chafe, may warm him at his fire : Mark all his wandrings, and enjoy his frets ; As cunning fencers suffer heat to tire. Truth dwels not in the clouds : the bow that's there, Doth often aim at, never hit the sphere. THE CHURCH. PORCH Mark what another sayes : for many are Full of themselves, and answer their own notion. Take all into thee ; then with equall care Ballance each dramme of reason, like a potion. If truth be with thy friend, be with them both : Share in the conquest, and confesse a troth. Be usefull where thou livest, that they may Both want, and wish thy pleasing presence still. Kindnesse, good parts, great places are the way To compasse this. Finde out mens wants and will, And meet them there. All worldly joyes go lesse To the one joy of doing kindnesses. Pitch thy behaviour low, thy projects high ; So shalt thou humble and magnanimous be : Sink not in spirit : who aimeth at the sky, Shoots higher much then he that means a tree. A grain of glorie mixt with humblenesse Cures both a fever and lethargicknesse. Let thy minde still be bent, still plotting where, And when, and how the businesse may be done. Slacknesse breeds worms ; but the sure traveller, Though he alight sometimes, still goeth on. Active and stirring spirits live alone. Write on the others, Here lies such a one. Slight not the smallest losse, whether it be In love or honour : take account of all ; Shine like the sunne in every corner : see Whether thy stock of credit swell, or fall. Who say, I care not, those I give for lost ; And to instruct them, 'twill not quit the cost. 12 THE CHURCH-PORCH Scorn no mans love, though of a mean degree ; (Love is a present for a mightie king) Much lesse make any one thine enemie. As gunnes destroy, so may a little sling. The cunning workman never doth refuse The meanest tool, that he may chance to use. All forrain wisdome doth amount to this, To take all that is given ; whether wealth, Or love, or language ; nothing comes amisse : A good digestion turneth all to health : And then as farre as fair behaviour may, Strike off all scores ; none are so cleare as they. Keep all thy native good, and naturalize All forrain of that name ; but scorn their ill : Embrace their activenesse, not vanities. Who follows all things, forfeiteth his will. If thou observest strangers in each fit, In time they'l runne thee out of all thy wit. Affect in things about thee cleanlinesse, That all may gladly board thee, as a flowre. Slovens take up their stock of noisomnesse Beforehand, and anticipate their last houre. Let thy mindes sweetnesse have his operation Upon thy body, clothes, and habitation. In Almes regard thy means, and others merit. Think heav'n a better bargain, then to give Onely thy single market-money for it. Joyn hands with God to make a man to live. Give to all something ; to a good poore man, Till thou change names, and be where he began. THE CHURCH-PORCH Man is Gods image; but a poore man is Christs stamp to boot : both images regard. God reckons for him, counts the favour his : Write, So much giv'n to God ; thou shall be heard. Let thy almes go before, and keep heav'ns gate Open for thee ; or both may come too late. Restore to God his due in tithe and time : A tithe purloin'd cankers the whole estate. Sundaies observe : think when the bells do chime, 'Tis angels musick ; therefore come not late. God then deals blessings : If a king did so, Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show ? Twice on the day his due is understood ; For all the week thy food so oft he gave thee. Thy cheere is mended ; bate not of the food, Because 'tis better, and perhaps may save thee. Thwart not th' Almighty God : O be not crosse. Fast when thou wilt ; but then 'tis gain, not losse. Though private prayer be a brave designe, Yet publick hath more promises, more love : And love's a weight to hearts, to eies a signe. We all are but cold suitours ; let us move Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven ; Pray with the most : for where most pray, is heaven. When once thy foot enters the church, be bare. God is more there, then thou : for thou art there Onely by his permission. Then beware, And make thy self all reverence and fear. Kneeling ne're spoil'd silk stocking : quit thy state. All equall are within the churches gate. THE CHURCH-PORCH Resort to sermons, but to prayers most : Praying 's the end of preaching. O be drest ; Stay not for th' other pin : why thou hast lost A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest Away thy blessings, and extreamly flout thee, Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about thee. In time of service seal up both thine eies, And send them to thine heart ; that spying sinne, They may weep out the stains by them did rise : Those doores being shut, all by the eare comes in. Who marks in church-time others symmetric, Makes all their beautie his deformitie. Let vain or busie thoughts have there no part : Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures thither. Christ purg'd his temple ; so must thou thy heart. All worldly thoughts are but theeves met together To couzin thee. Look to thy actions well : For churches are either our heav'n or hell. Judge not the preacher ; for he is thy Judge : If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not. God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. The worst speak something good : if all want sense, God takes a text, and preacheth patience. He that gets patience, and the blessing which Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains. He that by being at church escapes the ditch, Which he might fall in by companions, gains. He that loves Gods abode, and to combine With saints on earth, shall one day with them shine. '5 THE CHURCH-PORCH Jest not at preachers language, or expression : How know'st thou, but thy sinnes made him miscarrie ? Then turn thy faults and his into confession : God sent him, whatsoe're he be : O tarry, And love him for his Master : his condition, Though it be ill, makes him no ill Physician. None shall in hell such bitter pangs endure, As those, who mock at Gods way of salvation. Whom oil and balsames kill, what salve can cure ? They drink with greedinesse a full damnation. The Jews refused thunder ; and we, folly. Though God do hedge us in, yet who is holy ? Summe up at night, what thou hast done by day ; And in the morning, what thou hast to do. Dresse and undresse thy soul : mark the decay And growth of it : if with thy watch, that too Be down, then winde up both, since we shall be Most surely judg'd, make thy accounts agree. In brief, acquit thee bravely ; play the man. Look not on pleasures as they come, but go. Deferre not the least vertue : lifes poore span Make not an ell, by trifling in thy wo. If thou do ill ; the joy fades, not the pains : If well ; the pain doth fade, the joy remains. SUPERLIMINARE Thou, "whom the former precepts have Sprinkled and taught, ho-w to behave Thy self in church ; approach, and taste The churches mysticall repast. Avoid profanenesse ; come not here : Nothing but holy, pure, and cleare, Or that -which groneth to be so, May at his perill further go. ~^ ^^ ^^ THE ALTAR A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant reares, Made of a heart, and cemented with teares : Whose parts are as thy hand did frame ; No workmans tool hath touch'd the same. A HEART alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy pow'r doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame, To praise thy name. That if I chance to hold my peace, These stones to praise thee may not cease. O let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine, And sanctifie this ALTAR to be thine. THE SACRIFICE THE SACRIFICE Oh all ye, who passe by, whose eyes and minde To worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde ; To me, who took eyes that I might you finde : Was ever grief like mine ? The Princes of my people make a head Against their Maker : they do wish me dead, Who cannot wish, except I give them bread : Was ever grief like mine ? Without me each one, who doth now me brave, Had to this day been an Egyptian slave. They use that power against me, which I gave : Was ever grief like mine ? Mine own Apostle, who the bag did beare, Though he had all I had, did not forbeare To sell me also, and to put me there : Was ever grief, &c. For thirtie pence he did my death devise, Who at three hundred did the ointment prize, Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice : Was ever grief, &c. Therefore my soul melts, and my hearts deare treasure Drops bloud (the onely beads) my words to measure: let this cup passe, if it be thy pleasure : Was ever grief, &c. THE CHURCH These drops being temper'd with a sinners tears, A Balsome are for both the Hemispheres : Curing all wounds, but mine ; all, but my fears : Was ever grief like mine ? Yet my Disciples sleep : I cannot gain One houre of watching ; but their drowsie brain Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain : Was ever grief, &c. Arise, arise, they come. Look how they runne. Alas ! what haste they make to be undone ! How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne ! Was ever grief, &c. With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief, Who am the way of truth, the true relief; Most true to those, who are my greatest grief: Was ever grief, &c. Judas, dost thou betray me with a kisse ? Canst thou finde hell about my lips ? and misse Of life, just at the gates of life and blisse ? Was ever grief, &c. See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands Of faith, but furie : yet at their commands I suffer binding, who have loos'd their bands : Was ever grief, &c. All my Disciples flie ; fear puts a barre Betwixt my friends and me. They leave the starre, That brought the wise men of the East from farre. Was ever grief, &c. 20 THE SACRIFICE Then from one ruler to another bound They leade me ; urging, that it was not sound What I taught : Comments would the text confound. Was ever grief like mine ? The Priest and rulers all false witnesse seek 'Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meek And readie Paschal Lambe of this great week : Was ever grief, &c. Then they accuse me of great blasphemie, That I did thrust into the Deitie, Who never thought that any robberie : Was ever grief, &c. Some said, that I the Temple to the floore In three dayes raz'd, and raised as before. Why, he that built the world can do much more : Was ever grief, &c. Then they condemne me all with that same breath, Which I do give them daily, unto death. Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth : Was ever grief, &c. They binde, and leade me unto Herod : he Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree ; But yet their friendship is my enmitie : Was ever grief, &c. Herod and all his bands do set me light, Who teach all hands to warre, fingers to fight, And onely am the Lord of hosts and might : Was ever grief, &c. 21 THE CHURCH Herod in judgement sits, while I do stand ; Examines me with a censorious hand : I him obey, who all things else command : Was ever grief like mine ? The Jews accuse me with despitefulnesse ; And vying malice with my gentlenesse, Pick quarrels with their onely happinesse : Was ever grief, &c. I answer nothing, but with patience prove If stonie hearts will melt with gentle love. But who does hawk at eagles with a dove ? Was ever grief, &c. My silence rather doth augment their crie ; My dove doth back into my bosome flie, Because the raging waters still are high : Was ever grief, &c. Heark how they crie aloud still, Cructfie : It is not jit he live a day, they crie, Who cannot live lesse then eternally : Was ever grief, &c. Pilate a stranger holdeth off; but they, Mine owne deare people, cry, Away, away, With noises confused frighting the day : Was ever grief, &c. Yet still they shout, and crie, and stop their eares, Putting my life among their sinnes and fears, And therefore with my bloud on them and theirs : Was ever grief, &c. 22 THE SACRIFICE See how spite cankers things. These words aright Used, and wished, are the whole worlds light : But hony is their gall, brightnesse their night : Was ever grief like mine ? They choose a murderer, and all agree In him to do themselves a courtesie : For it was their own cause who killed me : Was ever grief, &c. And a seditious murderer he was : But I the Prince of peace ; peace that doth passe All understanding, more then heav'n doth glasse : Was ever grief, &c. Why, Cesar is their onely King, not I : He clave the stonie rock, when they were drie ; But surely not their hearts, as I well trie : Was ever grief, &c. Ah ! how they scourge me ! yet my tendernesse Doubles each lash : and yet their bitternesse Windes up my grief to a mysteriousnesse : Was ever grief, &c. They buffet me, and box me as they list, Who grasp the earth and heaven with my fist, And never yet, whom I would punish, miss'd : Was ever grief, &c. Behold, they spit on me in scornfull wise, Who by my spittle gave the blinde man eies, Leaving his blindnesse to mine enemies : Was ever grief, &c. 23 THE CHURCH My face they cover, though it be divine. As Moses face was vailed, so is mine, Lest on their double-dark souls either shine : Was ever grief like mine ? Servants and abjects flout me ; they are wittie : No be the onely way, And cordiall left to repair mans decay : Was ever grief, &c. Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear : For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear, Though I my vine planted and watred there : Was ever grief, &c. 24 THE SACRIFICE So sits the earths great curse in Adams fall Upon my head : so I remove it all From th' earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall : Was ever grief like mine ? Then with the reed they gave to me before, They strike my head, the rock from whence all store Of heav'nly blessings issue evermore : Was ever grief, &c. They bow their knees to me, and cry, Hail king : What ever scoffes or scornfulnesse can bring, I am the floore, the sink, where they it fling : Was ever grief, &c. Yet since mans scepters are as frail as reeds, And thorny all their crowns, bloudie their weeds ; I, who am Truth, turn into truth their deeds : Was ever grief, &c. The souldiers also spit upon that face, Which Angels did desire to have the grace, And Prophets once to see, but found no place : Was ever grief, &c. Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout, Who Crucifie him, crie with one strong shout. God holds his peace at man, and man cries out : Was ever grief, &c. They leade me in once more, and putting then Mine own clothes on, they leade me out agen. Whom devils flie, thus is he toss'd of men : Was ever grief, &c. 25 THE CHURCH And now wearie of sport, glad to ingrosse All spite in one, counting my life their losse, They carrie me to my most bitter crosse : Was ever grief like mine ? My crosse I bear my self, untill I faint : Then Simon bears it for me by constraint, The decreed burden of each mortall Saint : Was ever grief, &c. all ye who passe by, behold and see ; Man stole the fruit, but I must climbe the tree ; The tree of life to all, but onely me : Was ever grief, &c. Lo, here I hang, charg'd with a world of sinne, The greater world o' th' two ; for that came in By words, but this by sorrow I must win : Was ever grief, &c. Such sorrow, as if sinfull man could feel, Or feel his part, he would not cease to kneel, Till all were melted, though he were all steel : Was ever grief, &c. But, my God, my God ! why leav'st thou me, The sonne, in whom thou dost delight to be ? My God, my God Never was grief like mine. Shame tears my soul, my bodie many a wound ; Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound ; Reproches, which are free, while I am bound. Was ever grief, &c. 26 THE SACRIFICE Now heal thy self, Physician ; now come down. Alas ! I did so, when I left my crown And fathers smile for you, to feel his frown : Was ever grief like mine ? * In healing not my self, there doth consist All that salvation, which ye now resist ; Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist : Was ever grief, &c. Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath, As he that for some robberie suffereth. Alas ! what have I stollen from you ? death : Was ever grief, &c. A king my title is, prefixt on high ; Yet by my subjects am condemn'd to die A servile death in servile companie : Was ever grief, &c. They gave me vineger mingled with gall, But more with malice : yet, when they did call, With Manna, Angels food, I fed them all : Was ever grief, &c. They part my garments, and by lot dispose My coat, the type of love, which once cur'd those Who sought for help, never malicious foes : Was ever grief, &c. Nay, after death their spite shall further go ; For they will pierce my side, I full well know ; That as sinne came, so Sacraments might flow : Was ever grief, &c. 27 c THE CHURCH But now I die ; now all is finished. My wo, mans weal : and now I bow my head. Onely let others say, when I am dead, Never was grief like mine. THE THANKSGIVING OH King of grief! (a title strange, yet true, To thee of all kings onely due) Oh King of wounds ! how shall I grieve for thee, Who in all grief preventest me ? Shall I weep bloud ? why thou hast wept such store That all thy body was one doore. Shall I be scourged, flouted, boxed, sold ? 'Tis but to tell the tale is told. My God, my God, t why dost thou part from me P Was such a grief as cannot be. Shall I then sing, skipping, thy dolefull storie, And side with thy triumphant glorie ? Shall thy strokes be my stroking ? thorns, my flower ? Thy rod, my posie ? crosse, my bower ? But how then shall I imitate thee, and Copie thy fair, though bloudie hand ? Surely I will reuenge me on thy love, And trie who shall victorious prove. If thou dost give me wealth ; I will restore All back unto thee by the poore. If thou dost give me honour ; men shall see, The honour doth belong to thee. I will not marry ; or, if she be mine, She and her children shall be thine. 28 THE REPRISALL My bosome friend, if he blaspheme thy name, I will tear thence his lOve and fame. One half of me being gone, the rest I give Unto some Chappell, die or live. As for thy passion But of that anon, When with the other I have done. For thy predestination Fie contrive, That three yeares hence, if I survive, Fie build a spittle, or mend common wayes, But mend mine own without delayes. Then I will use the works of thy creation, As if I us'd them but for fashion. The world and I will quarrell ; and the yeare Shall not perceive, that I am here. My musick shall finde thee, and ev'ry string Shall have his attribute to sing ; That all together may accord in thee, And prove one God, one harmonic. If thou shalt give me wit, it shall appeare, If thou hast giv'n it me, 'tis here. Nay, I will reade thy book, and never move Till I have found therein thy love ; Thy art of love, which Fie turn back on thee, O my deare Saviour, Victorie ! Then for thy passion I will do for that Alas, my God, I know not what. THE REPRISALL I HAVE consider'd it, and finde There is no dealing with thy mighty passion For though I die for thee, I am behinde ; My sinnes deserve the condemnation. 29 THE CHURCH O make me innocent, that I May give a disentangled state and free : And yet thy wounds still my attempts defie, For by thy death I die for thee. Ah ! was it not enough that thou By thy eternall glorie didst outgo me ? Couldst thou not griefs sad conquests me allow, But in all vict'ries overthrow me ? Yet by confession will I come Into the conquest. Though I can do nought Against thee, in thee will. I overcome The man who once against thee fought. THE AGONIE PHILOSOPHERS have measur'd mountains, Fathom'd the depths of seas, of states, and kings, Walk'd with a staffe to heav'n, and traced fountains : But there are two vast, spacious things, The which to measure it doth more behove : Yet few there are that found them ; Sinne and Love. Who would know Sinne, let him repair Unto mount Olivet ; there shall he see A man so wrung with pains, that all his hair, His skinne, his garments bloudie be. Sinne is that presse and vice, which forceth pain To hunt his cruell food through ev'ry vein. 3 GOOD FRIDAY Who knows not Love, let him assay And taste that juice, which on the crosse a pike Did set again abroach ; then let him say If ever he did taste the like. Love is that liquour sweet and most divine, Which my God feels as bloud ; but I, as wine. THE SINNER LORD, how I am all ague, when I seek What I have treasur'd in my memorie ! Since, if my soul make even with the week, Each seventh note by right is due to thee. I finde there quarries of pil'd vanities, But shreds of holinesse, that dare not venture To shew their face, since crosse to thy decrees : There the circumference earth is, heav'n the centre. In so much dregs the quintessence is small : The spirit and good extract of my heart Comes to about the many hundredth part. Yet Lord restore thine image, heare my call : fjgrone, And though my hard heart scarce to thee can Remember that thou once didst write in stone. GOOD FRIDAY O MY chief good, How shall I measure out thy bloud ? How shall I count what thee befell, And each grief tell ? THE CHURCH Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes ? Or, since one starre show'd thy first breath, Shall all thy death ? Or shall each leaf, Which falls in Autumne, score a grief ? Or cannot leaves, but fruit, be signe Of the true vine ? Then let each houre Of my whole life one grief devoure ; That thy distresse through all may runne, And be my sunne. Or rather let My severall sinnes their sorrows get ; That as each beast his cure doth know, Each sinne may so. Since bloud is fittest, Lord, to write Thy sorrows in, and bloudie fight ; My heart hath store, write there, where in One box doth lie both ink and sinne : That when sinne spies so many foes, Thy whips, thy nails, thy wounds, thy woes, All come to lodge there, sinne may say, No room for me, and flie away. Sinne being gone, oh fill the place, And keep possession with thy grace ; Lest sinne take courage and return, And all the writings blot or burn. 3 2 SEPULCHRE REDEMPTION HAVING been tenant long to a rich Lord, Not thriving, I resolved to be bold, And make a suit unto him, to afford A new small-rented lease, and cancell th' old. In heaven at his manour I him sought : They told me there, that he was lately gone About some land, which he had dearly bought Long since on earth, to take possession. I straight return'd, and knowing his great birth, Sought him accordingly in great resorts ; In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts : At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth Of theeves and murderers : there I him espied, Who straight, Tour suit is granted, said, and died. SEPULCHRE O BLESSED bodie ! Whither art thou thrown ? No lodging for thee, but a cold hard stone ? So many hearts on earth, and yet not one Receive thee ? Sure there is room within our hearts good store ; For they can lodge transgressions by the score : Thousands of toyes dwell there, yet out of doore They leave thee. 33 THE CHURCH But that which shews them large, shews them unfit. What ever sinne did this pure rock commit, Which holds thee now ? Who hath indited it Of murder ? Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee, And missing this, most falsly did arraigne thee ; Onely these stones in quiet entertain thee, And order. And as of old, the law by heav'nly art Was writ in stone ; so thou, which also art The letter of the word, find'st no fit heart To hold thee. Yet do we still persist as we began, And so should perish, but that nothing can, Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man Withold thee. EASTER RISE heart ; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delayes, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With him mayst rise : That, as his death calcined thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and much more just. 34 EASTER Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art. The crosse taught all wood to resound his name, Who bore the same. His streched sinews taught all strings, what key Is best to celebrate this most high day. Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long : Or since all musick is but three parts vied And multiplied ; let thy blessed Spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with his sweet art. 1 got me flowers to straw thy way ; I got me boughs off many a tree : But thou wast up by break of day, And brought'st thy sweets along with thee. The Sunne arising in the East, Though he give light, & th' East perfume ; If they should offer to contest With thy arising, they presume. Can there be any day but this, Though many sunnes to shine endeavour ? We count three hundred, but we misse : There is but one, and that one ever. 35 THE CHURCH EASTER WINGS _3 r tr o> a tr K. 3 pL 5' CO O H 8 s- ^ I ^ 1- H D- g Crq o "-1 Q. tr o r> s* rt CO ^ 1 o" < o rs H* -i 5". p. , harmoni s s-1 i"! " JS ^ i s 3 S ' n q. ^ 1 j* ^j* o L^ a n *~-< c 3 CO "* CO o rt B' 5- o' ^ $ 5* J fD ~ CO & CTQ' n' 1 ? i-J f> re (U D 5' w" 3 36 EASTER WINGS EASTER WINGS > EB TJ : s > H s. 1 ^ 1 5- i |-|^ i ; ||S 2 ' a B: 3 o S. f 1 - O- S- g- S B- cr S' 8 " " 3 C 2. - no o CD 37 THE CHURCH H. BAPTISME As he that sees a dark and shadie grove, Stayes not, but looks beyond it on the skie ; So when I view my sinnes, mine eyes remove More backward still, and to that water flie, Which is above the heav'ns, whose spring and rent Is in my deare Redeemers pierced side. O blessed streams ! either ye do prevent And stop our sinnes from growing thick and wide, Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow. In you Redemption measures all my time, And spreads the plaister equall to the crime : You taught the book of life my name, that so What ever future sinnes should me miscall, Your first acquaintance might discredit all. H. BAPTISME SINCE, Lord, to thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage, on my infancie Thou didst lay hold, and antedate My faith in me. O let me still Write thee great God, and me a childe : Let me be soft and supple to thy will, Small to my self, to others milde, Behither ill. 38 NATURE Although by stealth My flesh get on, yet let her sister My soul bid nothing, but preserve her wealth : The growth of flesh is but a blister ; Childhood is health. NATURE FULL of rebellion, I would die, Or fight, or travell, or denie That thou hast ought to do with me. O tame my heart ; It is thy highest art To captivate strong holds to thee. If thou shalt let this venome lurk, And in suggestions fume and work, My soul will turn to bubbles straight, And thence by kinde Vanish into a winde, Making thy workmanship deceit. O smooth my rugged heart, and there Engrave thy rev'rend law and fear ; Or make a new one, since the old Is saplesse grown, And a much fitter stone To hide my dust, then thee to hold. 39 THE CHURCH SINNE LORD, with what care hast thou begirt us round! Parents first season us : then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws ; they send us bound To rules of reason, holy messengers, Pulpits and sundayes, sorrow dogging sinne, Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, Bibles laid open, millions of surprises, Blessings beforehand, tyes of gratefulnesse, The sound of glorie ringing in our eares : Without, our shame ; within, our consciences; Angels and grace, eternall hopes and fears. Yet all these fences and their whole aray One cunning bosome-sinne blows quite away. AFFLICTION WHEN first thou didst entice to thee my heart, I thought the service brave: So many joyes I writ down for my part, Besides what I might have Out of my stock of natural! delights, Augmented with thy gracious benefits. 40 AFFLICTION I looked on thy furniture so fine, And made it fine to me: Thy glorious household- stuffe did me entwine, And 'tice me unto thee. Such starres I counted mine: both heav'n and earth Payd me my wages in a world of mirth. What pleasures could I want, whose King I served ? Where joyes my fellows were. Thus argu'd into hopes, my thoughts reserved No place for grief or fear. Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place, And made her youth and fiercenesse seek thy face. At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses; I had my wish and way : My dayes were straw'd with flow'rs and happinesse; There was no moneth but May. But with my yeares sorrow did twist and grow, And made a partie unawares for wo. My flesh began unto my soul in pain, Sicknesses cleave my bones; Consuming agues dwell in ev'ry vein, And tune my breath to grones. Sorrow was all my soul ; I scarce beleeved, Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived. When I got health, thou took'st away my life, And more ; for my friends die : My mirth and age was lost ; a blunted knife Was of more use then I. Thus thinne and lean without a fence or friend, I was blown through with ev'ry storm and winde. 41 THE CHURCH Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town ; Thou didst betray me to a lingring book, And wrap me in a gown. I was entangled in the world of strife, Before I had the power to change my life. Yet, for I threatned oft the siege to raise, Not simpring all mine age, Thou often didst with Academick praise Melt and dissolve my rage. I took thy sweetned pill, till I came neare; I could not go away, nor persevere. Yet lest perchance I should too happie be In my unhappinesse, Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me Into more sicknesses. Thus doth thy power crosse-bias me, not making Thine own gift good, yet me from my wayes taking. Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me None of my books will show: I reade, and sigh, and wish I were a tree; For sure then I should grow To fruit or shade : at least some bird would trust Her household to me, and I should be just. Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek ; In weaknesse must be stout. Well, I will change the service, and go seek Some other master out. Ah my deare God ! though I am clean forgot, Let me not love thee, if I love thee not. 42 REPENTANCE REPENTANCE LORD, I confesse my sinne is great; Great is my sinne. Oh ! gently treat With thy quick flow'r, thy momentanie bloom ; Whose life still pressing Is one undressing, A steadie aiming at a tombe. Mans age is two houres work, or three : Each day doth round about us see. Thus are we to delights : but we are all To sorrows old, If life be told From what life feeleth, Adams fall. O let thy height of mercie then Compassionate short-breathed men. Cut me not off for my most foul transgression : I do confesse My foolishnesse ; My God, accept of my confession. Sweeten at length this bitter bowl, Which thou hast pour'd into my soul ; [weather : Thy wormwood turn to health, windes to fair For if thou stay, I and this day, As we did rise, we die together. 43 D THE CHURCH When thou for sinne rebukest man, Forthwith he waxeth wo and wan : Bitternesse fills our bowels ; all our hearts Pine, and decay, And drop away, And carrie with them th' other parts. But thou wilt sinne and grief destroy ; That so the broken bones may joy, And tune together in a well-set song, Full of his praises, Who dead men raises. Fractures well cur'd make us more strong. FAITH LORD, how couldst thou so much appease Thy wrath for sinne, as when mans sight was dimme, And could see little, to regard his ease, And bring by Faith all things to him ? Hungrie I was, and had no meat : I did conceit a most delicious feast ; I had it straight, and did as truly eat, As ever did a welcome guest. There is a rare outlandish root, Which when I could not get, I thought it here : That apprehension cur'd so well my foot, That I can walk to heav'n well neare. 44 FAITH I owed thousands and much more : I did beleeve that I did nothing owe, And liv'd accordingly ; my creditor Beleeves so too, and lets me go. Faith makes me any thing, or all That I beleeve is in the sacred storie : And where sinne placeth me in Adams fall, Faith sets me higher in his glorie. If I go lower in the book, What can be lower then the common manger ? Faith puts me there with him, who sweetly took Our flesh and frailtie, death and danger. If blisse had lien in art or strength, None but the wise or strong had gained it : Where now by Faith all arms are of a length ; One size doth all conditions fit. A peasant may beleeve as much As a great Clerk, and reach the highest stature. Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend & crouch While grace fills up uneven nature. When creatures had no reall light Inherent in them, thou didst make the sunne, Impute a lustre, and allow them bright ; And in this shew, what Christ hath done. That which before was darkned clean With bushie groves, pricking the lookers eie, Vanisht away, when Faith did change the scene : And then appear'd a glorious skie. 45 THE CHURCH What though my bodie runne to dust ? Faith cleaves unto it, counting ev'ry grain With an exact and most particular trust, Reserving all for flesh again. PRAYER PRAYER the Churches banquet, Angels age, Gods breath in man returning to his birth, The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage, The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth ; Engine against th' Almightie, sinners towre, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, The six-daies world transposing in an houre, A kinde of tune, which all things heare and fear ; Softnesse, and peace, and joy, and love, and blisse, Exalted Manna, gladnesse of the best, Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest, The milkie may, the bird of Paradise, [bloud, Church-bels beyond the starres heard, the souls The land of spices ; something understood. THE H. COMMUNION NOT in rich furniture, or fine aray, Nor in a wedge of gold, Thou, who from me wast sold, To me dost now thy self convey ; For so thou should'st without me still have been, Leaving within me sinne : 46 THE H. COMMUNION But by the way of nourishment and strength Thou creep'st into my breast ; Making thy way my rest, And thy small quantities my length ; Which spread their forces into every part, Meeting sinnes force and art. Yet can these not get over to my soul, Leaping the wall that parts Our souls and fleshly hearts ; But as th' outworks, they may controll My rebel-flesh, and carrying thy name, Affright both sinne and shame. Onely thy grace, which with these elements comes, Knoweth the ready way, And hath the privie key, Op'ning the souls most subtile rooms ; While those to spirits refin'd, at doore attend Dispatches from their friend. Give me my captive soul, or take My bodie also thither. Another lift like this will make Them both to be together. Before that sinne turn'd flesh to stone, And all our lump to leaven ; A fervent sigh might well have blown Our innocent earth to heaven. For sure when Adam did not know To sinne, or sinne to smother ; He might to heav'n from Paradise go, As from one room t'another. 47 THE CHURCH Thou hast restor'd us to this ease By this thy heav'nly bloud ; Which I can go to, when I please, And leave th' earth to their food. ANTIPHON Cho. LET all the world in ev'ry corner sing, My God and King. Vers. The heav'ns are not too high, His praise may thither flic : The earth is not too low, His praises there may grow. Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing, My God and King. Vers. The church with psalms must shout, No doore can keep them out : But above all, the heart Must bear the longest part. Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing, My God and King. LOVE i IMMORTALL Love, authour of this great frame, Sprung from that beautie which can never fade ; How hath man parcel'd out thy glorious name, And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made, 48 LOVE While mortall love doth all the title gain ! Which siding with invention, they together Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain, (Thy workmanship) and give thee share in neither. Wit fancies beautie, beautie raiseth wit : The world is theirs ; they two play out the game, Thou standing by : and though thy glorious name Wrought out deliverance from th' infernall pit, Who sings thy praise ? onely a skarf or glove Doth warm our hands, and make them write of love. II IMMORTALL Heat, O let thy greater flame Attract the lesser to it : let those fires, Which shall consume the world, first make it tame ; And kindle in our hearts such true desires, As may consume our lusts, and make thee way. [brain Then shall our hearts pant thee ; then shall our All her invention on thine Altar lay, And there in hymnes send back thy fire again : Our eies shall see thee, which before saw dust ; Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blinde : Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kinde, Who wert disseized by usurping lust : All knees shall bow to thee ; all wits shall rise, And praise him who did make and mend our eies. 49 THE CHURCH THE TEMPER How should I praise thee, Lord ! how should my Gladly engrave thy love in steel, [rymes If what my soul doth feel sometimes, My soul might ever feel ! Although there were some fourtie heav'ns, or more, Sometimes I peere above them all ; Sometimes I hardly reach a score, Sometimes to hell I fall. O rack me not to such a vast extent ; Those distances belong to thee : The world's too little for thy tent, A grave too big for me. Wilt thou meet arms with man, that thou dost stretch A crumme of dust from heav'n to hell ? Will great God measure with a wretch ? Shall he thy stature spell ? O let me, when thy roof my soul hath hid, O let me roost and nestle there : Then of a sinner thou art rid, And I of hope and fear. Yet take thy way ; for sure thy way is best : Stretch or contract me thy poore debter : This is but tuning of my breast, To make the musick better. 50 THE TEMPER Whether I flie with angels, fall with dust, Thy hands made both, and I am there : Thy power and love, my love and trust Make one place ev'ry where. THE TEMPER IT cannot be. Where is that mightie joy, Which just now took up all my heart ? Lord, if thou must needs use thy dart, Save that, and me ; or sin for both destroy. The grosser world stands to thy word and art ; But thy diviner world of grace Thou suddenly dost raise and race, And ev'ry day a new Creatour art. O fix thy chair of grace, that all my powers May also fix their reverence : For when thou dost depart from hence, They grow unruly, and sit in thy bowers. Scatter, or binde them all to bend to thee : Though elements change, and heaven move, Let not thy higher Court remove, But keep a standing Majestic in me. THE CHURCH JORDAN WHO sayes that fictions onely and false hair Become a verse ? Is there in truth no beautie ? Is all good structure in a winding stair ? May no lines passe, except they do their dutie Not to a true, but painted chair ? Is it no verse, except enchanted groves And sudden arbours shadow course-spunne lines ? Must purling streams refresh a lovers loves ? Must all be vail'd, while he that reades, divines, Catching the sense at two removes ? Shepherds are honest people ; let them sing : Riddle who list, for me, and pull for Prime : I envie no mans nightingale or spring ; Nor let them punish me with losse of ryme, Who plainly say, My God, My King. EMPLOYMENT IF as a flowre doth spread and die, Thou wouldst extend me to some good, Before I were by frosts extremitie Nipt in the bud ; The sweetnesse and the praise were thine ; But the extension and the room, Which in thy garland I should fill, were mine At thy great doom. 52 THE H. SCRIPTURES For as thou dost impart thy grace, The greater shall our glorie be. The measure of our joyes is in this place, The stuffe with thee. Let me not languish then, and spend A life as barren to thy praise, As is the dust, to which that life doth tend, But with delaies. All things are busie ; onely I Neither bring hony with the bees, Nor flowres to make that, nor the husbandrie To water these. I am no link of thy great chain, But all my companie is a weed. Lord place me in thy comfort ; give one strain To my poore reed. THE H. SCRIPTURES OH Book ! infinite sweetnesse ! let my heart Suck ev'ry letter, and a hony gain, Precious for any grief in any part ; To cleare the breast, to mollifie all pain. Thou art all health, health thriving, till it make A full eternitie : thou art a masse Of strange delights, where we may wish and take. Ladies, look here ; this is the thankfull glasse, 53 THE CHURCH That mends the lookers eyes : this is the well That washes what it shows. Who can indeare Thy praise too much ? thou art heav'ns Lidger Working against the states of death and hell. here, Thou art joyes handsell : heav'n lies flat in thee, Subject to ev'ry mounters bended knee. II OH that I knew how all thy lights combine, And the configurations of their glorie ! Seeing not onely how each verse doth shine, But all the constellations of the storie. This verse marks that, and both do make a motion Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie : Then as dispersed herbs do watch a potion, These three make up some Christians destinie : Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good, And comments on thee : for in ev'ry thing Thy words do finde me out, and parallels bring, And in another make me understood. Starres are poore books, and oftentimes do misse : This book of starres lights to eternall blisse. WHITSUNDAY LISTEN sweet Dove unto my song, And spread thy golden wings in me ; Hatching my tender heart so long, Till it get wing, and flic away with thee. 54 WHITSUNDAY Where is that fire which once descended On thy Apostles ? thou didst then Keep open house, richly attended, Feasting all comers by twelve chosen men. Such glorious gifts thou didst bestow, That th' earth did like a heav'n appeare ; The starres were coming down to know If they might mend their wages, and serve here. The sunne, which once did shine alone, Hung down his head, and wisht for night, When he beheld twelve sunnes for one Going about the world, and giving light. But since those pipes of gold, which brought That cordiall water to our ground, Were cut and martyr'd by the fault Of those, who did themselves through their side wound. Thou shutt'st the doore, and keep'st within ; Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink : And if the braves, of conqu'ring sinne Did not excite thee, we should wholly sink. Lord, though we change, thou art the same ; The same sweet God of love and light : Restore this day, for thy great name, Unto his ancient and miraculous right. 55 THE CHURCH GRACE MY stock lies dead, and no increase Doth my dull husbandrie improve : O let thy graces without cease Drop from above! If still the sunne should hide his face, Thy house would but a dungeon prove, Thy works nights captives : O let grace Drop from above ! The dew doth ev'ry morning fall ; And shall the dew out- strip thy dove ? The dew, for which grasse cannot call, Drop from above. Death is still working like a mole, And digs my grave at each remove: Let grace work too, and on my soul Drop from above. Sinne is still hammering my heart Unto a hardnesse, void of love : Let suppling grace, to crosse his art, Drop from above. O come ! for thou dost know the way. Or if to me thou wilt not move, Remove me, where I need not say, Drop from above. 56 AFFLICTION PRAISE To write a verse or two, is all the praise, That I can raise : Mend my estate in any wayes, Thou shalt have more. I go to Church ; help me to wings, and I Will thither flie ; Or, if I mount unto the skie, I will do more. Man is all weaknesse ; there is no such thing As Prince or King: His arm is short ; yet with a sling He may do more. An herb destill'd, and drunk, may dwell next doore, On the same floore, To a brave soul : Exalt the poore, They can do more. O raise me then ! poore bees, that work all day, Sting my delay, Who have a work, as well as they, And much, much more. AFFLICTION KILL me not ev'ry day, Thou Lord of life ; since thy one death for me Is more then all my deaths can be, Though I in broken pay Die over each houre of Methusalems stay. 57 THE CHURCH If all mens tears were let Into one common sewer, sea, and brine ; What were they all, compar'd to thine ? Wherein if they were set, They would discolour thy most bloudy sweat. Thou art my grief alone, Thou Lord conceal it not : and as thou art All my delight, so all my smart : Thy crosse took up in one, By way of imprest, all my future mone. MATTENS I CANNOT ope mine eyes, But thou art ready there to catch My morning-soul and sacrifice : Then we must needs for that day make a match. My God, what is a heart ? Silver, or gold, or precious stone, Or starre, or rainbow, or a part Of all these things, or all of them in one ? My God, what is a heart, That thou shouldst it so eye, and wooe, Powring upon it all thy art, As if that thou hadst nothing els to do ? Indeed mans whole estate Amounts (and richly) to serve thee: He did not heav'n and earth create, Yet studies them, not him by whom they be 58 EVEN-SONG Teach me thy love to know; That this new light, which now I see, May both the work and workman show : Then by a sunne-beam I will climbe to thee. SINNE O THAT I could a sinne once see ! We paint the devil foul, yet he Hath some good in him, all agree. Sinne is flat opposite to th' Almighty, seeing It wants the good of vertue, and of being. But God more care of us hath had : If apparitions make us sad, By sight of sinne we should grow mad. Yet as in sleep we see foul death, and live : So devils are our sinnes in perspective. EVEN-SONG BLEST be the God of love, Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day, Both to be busie, and to play. But much more blest be God above, Who gave me sight alone, Which to himself he did denie : For when he sees my waies, I dy : But I have got his sonne, and he hath none. 59 E THE CHURCH What have I brought thee home For this thy love ? have I discharg'd the debt, Which this dayes favour did beget ? I ranne ; but all I brought, was fome. Thy diet, care, and cost Do end in bubbles, balls of winde ; Of winde to thee whom I have crost, But balls of wilde-fire to my troubled minde. Yet still thou goest on, And now with darknesse closest wearie eyes, Saying to man, // doth suffice : Henceforth repose; your tvork is done. Thus in thy Ebony box Thou dost enclose us, till the day Put our amendment in our way, And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks. I muse, which shows more love, The day or night : that is the gale, this th' harbour ; That is the walk, and this the arbour ; Or that the garden, this the grove. My God, thou art all love. Not one poore minute 'scapes thy breast, But brings a favour from above ; And in this love, more then in bed, I rest. 60 CHURCH- MONUMENTS CHURCH-MONUMENTS WHILE that my soul repairs to her devotion, Here I entombe my flesh, that it betimes May take acquaintance of this heap of dust ; To which the blast of deaths incessant motion, Fed with the exhalation of our crimes, Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust My bodie to this school, that it may learn To spell his elements, and finde his birth Written in dustie heraldrie and lines ; Which dissolution sure doth best discern, Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth. These laugh at leat, and Marble put for signes, To sever the good fellowship of dust, And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them, When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat To kisse those heaps, which now they have in trust ? Deare flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stemme And true descent ; that when thou shall grow fat, And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayst know, That flesh is but the glasse, which holds the dust That measures all our time ; which also shall Be crumbled into dust. Mark here below How tame these ashes are, how free from lust, That thou mayst fit thy self against thy fall. 61 THE CHURCH CHURCH-MUSICK SWEETEST of sweets, I thank you : when displeasure Did through my bodie wound my minde, You took me thence, and in your house of pleasure A daintie lodging me assign'd. Now I in you without a bodie move, Rising and falling with your wings : We both together sweetly live and love, Yet say sometimes, God help poore Kings. Comfort, 'He die; for if you poste from me, Sure I shall do so, and much more : But if I travell in your companie, You know the way to heavens doore. CHURCH-LOCK AND KEY I KNOW it is my sinne, which locks thine eares, And bindes thy hands ; Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears ; Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands. But as cold hands are angrie with the fire, And mend it still ; So I do lay the want of my desire, Not on my sinnes, or coldnesse, but thy will. Yet heare, O God, onely for his blouds sake Which pleads for me : For though sinnes plead too, yet like stones they make His bloods sweet current much more loud to be. 62 THE WINDOWS THE CHURCH-FLOORE MARK you the floore ? that square and speckled stone, Which looks so firm and strong, Is Patience : And th' other black and grave, wherewith each one Is checker'd all along, Humilitie : The gentle rising, which on either hand Leads to the Quire above, Is Confidence : But the sweet cement, which in one sure band Ties the whole frame, is Love And Chart tie. Hither sometimes Sinne steals, and stains The marbles neat and curious veins : But all is cleansed when the marble weeps. Sometimes Death, puffing at the doore, Blows all the dust about the floore : But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps. Blest be the Architect, whose art Could build so strong in a weak heart. THE WINDOWS LORD, how can man preach thy eternall word ? He is a brittle crazie glasse : Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, To be a window, through thy grace. 63 THE CHURCH But when thou dost anneal in glasse thy storie, Making thy life to shine within The holy Preachers ; then the light and glorie More rev'rend grows, and more doth win: Which else shows watrish, bleak, and thin. Doctrine and life, colours and light, in one When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and aw : but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing, And in the eare, not conscience ring. TRINITIE SUNDAY LORD, who hast form'd me out of mud, And hast redeem'd me through thy bloud, And sanctifi'd me to do good ; Purge all my sinnes done heretofore : For I confesse my heavie score, And I will strive to sinne no more. Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me, With faith, with hope, with charitie ; That I may runne, rise, rest with thee. CONTENT PEACE mutt' ring thoughts, and do not grudge to keep Within the walls of your own breast : Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep, Can on anothers hardly rest. 64 CONTENT Gad not abroad at ev'ry quest and call Of an untrained hope or passion. To court each place or fortune that doth fall, Is wantonnesse in contemplation. Mark how the fire in flints doth quiet lie, Content and warm t' it self alone : But when it would appeare to others eye, Without a knock it never shone. Give me the pliant minde, whose gentle measure Complies and suits with all estates ; Which can let loose to a crown, and yet with pleasure Take up within a cloisters gates. This soul doth span the world, and hang content From either pole unto the centre : Where in each room of the well-furnisht tent He lies warm, and without adventure. The brags of life are but a nine dayes wonder ; And after death the fumes that spring From private bodies, make as big a thunder, As those which rise from a huge King. Onely thy Chronicle is lost ; and yet Better by worms be all once spent, Then to have hellish moths still gnaw and fret Thy name in books, which may not rent : When all thy deeds, whose brunt thou feel'st alone, Are chaw'd by others pens and tongues ; And as their wit is, their digestion, Thy nourisht fame is weak or strong. 65 THE CHURCH Then cease discoursing soul, till thine own ground, Do not thy self or friends importune. He that by seeking hath himself once found, Hath euer found a happie fortune. THE QUIDDITIE MY God, a verse is not a crown, No point of honour, or gay suit, No hawk, or banquet, or renown, Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute : It cannot vault, or dance, or play ; It never was in France or Spain ; Nor can it entertain the day With a great stable or demain : It is no office, art, or news, Nor the Exchange, or busie Hall ; But it is that which while I use I am with thee, and Most take all. HUMILITIE I SAW the vertues sitting hand in hand In sev'rall ranks upon an azure throne, Where all the beasts and fowls by their command Presented tokens of submission. Humilitie, who sat the lowest there To execute their call, When by the beasts the presents tendred were, Gave them about to all. 66 FRAILTIE The angrie Lion did present his paw, Which by consent was giv'n to Mansuetude. The fearfull Hare her eares, which by their law Humilitie did reach to Fortitude. The jealous Turkic brought his corall-chain ; That went to Temperance. On Justice was bestow'd the Foxes brain, Kill'd in the way by chance. At length the Crow bringing the Peacocks plume, (For he would not) as they beheld the grace Of that brave gift, each one began to fume, And challenge it, as proper to his place, Till they fell out : which when the beasts espied, They leapt upon the throne ; And if the Fox had liv'd to rule their side, They had depos'd each one. Humilitie, who held the plume, at this Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down Spoil'd all the train : then saying, Here it is For which ye wrangle, made them turn their frown Against the beasts : so joyntly bandying, They drive them soon away ; And then amerc'd them, double gifts to bring At the next Session-day. FRAILTIE LORD, in my silence how do I despise What upon trust Is styled honour, riches, or fair eyes ; But is fair dust ! 67 THE CHURCH I surname them guilded clay, Deare earth, Jine grasse or hay , In all, I think my foot doth ever tread Upon their head. But when I view abroad both Regiments ; The worlds, and thine : Thine clad with simplenesse, and sad events ; The other fine, Full of glorie and gay weeds, Brave language, braver deeds : That which was dust before, doth quickly rise, And prick mine eyes. O brook not this, lest if what even now My foot did tread, Affront those joyes, wherewith thou didst endow, And long since wed My poore soul, ev'n sick of love : It may a Babel prove. Commodious to conquer heav'n and thee Planted in me. CONSTANCIE WHO is the honest man ? He that doth still and strongly good pursue, To God, his neighbour, and himself most true : Whom neither force nor fawning can Unpinne, or wrench from giving all their due. 68 CONSTANCIE Whose honestie is not So loose or easie, that a ruffling winde Can blow away, or glittering look it blinde : Who rides his sure and even trot, While the world now rides by, now lags behinde. Who, when great trials come, Nor seeks, nor shunnes them ; but doth calmly stay, Till he the thing and the example weigh : All being brought into a summe, What place or person calls for, he doth pay. Whom none can work or wooe To use in any thing a trick or sleight, For above all things he abhorres deceit : His words and works and fashion too All of a piece, and all are cleare and straight. Who never melts or thaws At close tentations : when the day is done, His goodnesse sets not, but in dark can runne : The sunne to others writeth laws, And is their vertue ; Vertue is his Sunne. Who, when he is to treat With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, Allows for that, and keeps his constant way : Whom others faults do not defeat ; But though men fail him, yet his part doth play. Whom nothing can procure, When the wide world runnes bias, from his will To writhe his limbes, and share, not mend the ill. This is the Mark-man, safe and sure, Who still is right, and prayes to be so still. 69 THE CHURCH AFFLICTION MY heart, did heave, and there came forth, God ! By that I knew that thou wast in the grief, To guide and govern it to my relief, Making a sceptre of the rod : Hadst thou not had thy part, Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart. But since thy breath gave me both life and shape, Thou knowst my tallies ; and when there's assign'd So much breath to a sigh, what's then behinde ? Or if some yeares with it escape, The sigh then onely is A gale to bring me sooner to my blisse. Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still Constant unto it, making it to be A point of honour, now to grieve in me, And in thy members suffer ill. They who lament one crosse, Thou dying dayly, praise thee to thy losse. THE STARRE BRIGHT spark, shot from a brighter place, Where beams surround my Saviours face, Canst thou be any where So well as there ? 70 THE STARRE Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart, Take a bad lodging in my heart ; For thou canst make a debter, And make it better. First with thy fire-work burn to dust Folly, and worse then folly, lust : Then with thy light refine, And make it shine : So disengag'd from sinne and sicknesse, Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse, That it may hang and move After thy love. Then with our trinitie of light, Motion, and heat, let's take our flight Unto the place where thou Before didst bow. Get me a standing there, and place Among the beams, which crown the face Of him, who dy'd to part Sinne and my heart : That so among the rest I may Glitter, and curie, and winde as they : That winding is their fashion Of adoration. Sure thou wilt joy, by gaining me To flie home like a laden bee Unto that hive of beams And garland- streams. 7' THE CHURCH SUNDAY O DAY most calm, most bright, The fruit of this, the next worlds bud, Th' indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his bloud ; The couch of time ; cares balm and bay : The week were dark, but for thy light : Thy torch doth show the way. The other dayes and thou Make up one man ; whose face thou art, Knocking at heaven with thy brow : The worky-daies are the back-part ; The burden of the week lies there, Making the whole to stoup and bow, Till thy release appeare. Man had straight forward gone To endlesse death : but thou dost pull And turn us round to look on one, Whom, if we were not very dull, We could not choose but look on still ; Since there is no place so alone, The which he doth not fill. Sundaies the pillars are, On which heav'ns palace arched lies : The other dayes fill up the spare And hollow room with vanities. They are the fruitfull beds and borders In Gods rich garden : that is bare, Which parts their ranks and orders. 72 SUNDAY The Sundaies of mans life, Thredded together on times string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternall glorious King. On Sunday heavens gate stands ope ; Blessings are plentifull and rife, More plentifull then hope. This day my Saviour rose, And did inclose this light for his : That, as each beast his manger knows, Man might not of his fodder misse. Christ hath took in this piece of ground, And made a garden there for those Who want herbs for their wound. The rest of our Creation Our great Redeemer did remove With the same shake, which at his passion Did th' earth and all things with it move. As Samson bore the doores away, Christs hands, though nail'd, wrought our salvation, And did unhinge that day. The brightnesse of that day We sullied by our foul offence : Wherefore that robe we cast away, Having a new at his expence, Whose drops of bloud paid the full price, That was requir'd to make us gay, And fit for Paradise. 73 THE CHURCH Thou art a day of mirth : And where the week-dayes trail on ground, Thy flight is higher, as thy birth. O let me take thee at the bound, Leaping with thee from sev'n to sev'n, Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, Flie hand in hand to heav'n ! AVARICE MONEY, thou bane of blisse, and sourse of wo, Whence com'st thou, that thou art so fresh and fine? I know thy parentage is base and low : Man found thee poore and dirtie in a mine. Surely thou didst so little contribute To this great kingdome, which thou now hast got, That he was fain, when thou wert destitute, To digge thee out of thy dark cave and grot : Then forcing thee, by fire he made thee bright : Nay, thou hast got the face of man ; for we Have with our stamp and seal transferr'd our right: Thou art the man, and man but drosse to thee. Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich ; And while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch. ,, ( M AR Y ) Ana- < . > gram (ARMY) 15 How well her name an Army doth present, In whom the Lord of hosts did pitch his tent ! 74 TO ALL ANGELS AND SAINTS TO ALL ANGELS AND SAINTS OH glorious spirits, who after all your bands See the smooth face of God, without a frown Or strict commands; Where ev'ry one is king, and hath his crown, If not upon his head, yet in his hands : Not out of envie or maliciousnesse Do I forbear to crave your speciall aid : I would addresse My vows to thee most gladly, blessed Maid, And Mother of my God, in my distresse. Thou art the holy mine, whence came the gold, The great restorative for all decay In young and old ; Thou art the cabinet where the Jewell lay : Chiefly to thee would I my soul unfold : But now (alas ! ) I dare not ; for our King, Whom we do all joyntly adore and praise, Bids no such thing : And where his pleasure no injunction layes, ('Tis your own case) ye never move a wing. All worship is prerogative, and a flower Of his rich crown, from whom lyes no appeal At the last houre : Therefore we dare not from his garland steal, To make a posie for inferiour power. 75 F THE CHURCH Although then others court you, if ye know What's done on earth, we shall not fare the worse, Who do not so ; Since we are ever ready to disburse, If any one our Masters hand can show. EMPLOYMENT HE that is weary, let him sit. My soul would stirre And trade in courtesies and wit, Quitting the furre To cold complexions needing it. Man is no starre, but a quick coal Of mortall fire : Who blows it not, nor doth controll A faint desire, Lets his own ashes choke his soul. When th' elements did for place contest With him, whose will Ordain'd the highest to be best ; The earth sat still, And by the others is opprest. Life is a businesse, not good cheer ; Ever in warres. The sunne still shineth there or here, Whereas the starres Watch an advantage to appeare. 76 DENIALL Oh that I were an Orenge-tree, That busie plant ! Then should I ever laden be, And never want Some fruit for him that dressed me. But we are still too young or old ; The man is gone, Before we do our wares unfold : So we freeze on, Until the grave increase our cold. DENIALL WHEN my devotions could not pierce Thy silent eares ; Then was my heart broken, as was my verse : My breast was full of fears And disorder : My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow, Did flie asunder : Each took his way ; some would to pleasures go, Some to the warres and thunder Of alarms. As good go any where, they say, As to benumme Both knees and heart, in crying night and day, Come, come, my God, come, But no hearing. 77 THE CHURCH O that thou shouldst give dust a tongue To crie to thee, And then not heare it crying ! all day long My heart was in my knee, But no hearing. Therefore my soul lay out of sight, Untun'd, unstrung : My feeble spirit, unable to look right, Like a nipt blossome, hung Discontented. O cheer and tune my heartlesse breast, Deferre no time ; That so thy favours granting my request, They and my minde may chime, And mend my ryme. CHRISTMAS ALL after pleasures as I rid one day, My horse and I, both tir'd, bodie and minde, With full crie of affections, quite astray ; I took up in the next inne I could finde. There when I came, whom found I but my deare, My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief Of pleasures brought me to him, readie there To be all passengers most sweet relief? O Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light, Wrapt in nights mantle, stole into a manger ; Since my dark soul and brutish is thy right, To Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger : 78 UNGRATEFULNESSE Furnish and deck my soul, that thou mayst have A better lodging, then a rack, or grave. THE shepherds sing ; and shall I silent be ? My God, no hymne for thee ? My soul's a shepherd too ; a flock it feeds Of thoughts, and words, and deeds. The pasture is thy word : the streams, thy grace Enriching all the place. Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers Out-sing the day-light houres. Then we will chide the sunne for letting night Take up his place and right: We sing one common Lord ; wherefore he should Himself the candle hold. I will go searching, till I finde a sunne Shall stay, till we have done ; A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly, As frost-nipt sunnes look sadly. Then we will sing, and shine all our own day, And one another pay : His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so twine, Till ev'n his beams sing, and my musick shine. UNGRATEFULNESSE LORD, with what bountie and rare clemencie Hast thou redeem'd us from the grave ! If thou hadst let us runne, Gladly had man ador'd the sunne, And thought his god most brave ; Where now we shall be better gods then he. 79 THE CHURCH Thou hast but two rare cabinets full of treasure, The Trinitie, and Incarnation : Thou hast unlockt them both, And made them jewels to betroth The work of thy creation Unto thy self in everlasting pleasure. The statelier cabinet is the Trinitie, Whose sparkling light accesse denies : Therefore thou dost not show This fully to us, till death blow The dust into our eyes : For by that powder thou wilt make us see. But all thy sweets are packt up in the other ; Thy mercies thither flock and flow : That as the first affrights, This may allure us with delights ; Because this box we know ; For we have all of us just such another. But man is close, reserv'd, and dark to thee : When thou demandest but a heart, He cavils instantly. In his poore cabinet of bone Sinnes have their box apart, Defrauding thee, who gavest two for one. SIGHS AND GRONES O DO not use me After my sinnes ! look not on my desert, But on thy glorie ! then thou wilt reform And not refuse me: for thou onely art The mightie God, but I a sillie worm ; O do not bruise me ! 80 THE WORLD O do not urge me ! For what account can thy ill steward make ? I have abus'd thy stock, destroy'd thy woods, Suckt all thy magazens: my head did ake, Till it found out how to consume thy goods: O do not scourge me ! O do not blinde me ! I have deserv'd that an Egyptian night Should thicken all my powers ; because my lust Hath still sow'd fig-leaves to exclude thy light : But I am frailtie, and already dust ; O do not grinde me ! O do not fill me With the turn'd viall of thy bitter wrath ! For thou hast other vessels full of bloud, A part whereof my Saviour empti'd hath, Ev'n unto death: since he di'd for my good, O do not kill me ! But O reprieve me ! For thou hast life and death at thy command ; Thou art both Judge and Saviour, feast and rod, Cordiall and Corrosive : put not thy hand Into the bitter box ; but O my God, My God, relieve me ! THE WORLD LOVE built a stately house ; where Fortune came, And spinning phansies, she was heard to say, That her fine cobwebs did support the frame, Whereas they were supported by the same : But Wisdome quickly swept them all away. 81 THE CHURCH Then Pleasure came, who liking not the fashion, Began to make Balcones, Terraces, Till she had weakened all by alteration : But rev'rend laws, and many a. proclamation Reformed all at length with menaces. Then enter'd Sinne, and with that Sycomore, Whose leaves first sheltred man from drought and dew, Working and winding slily evermore, The inward walls and Sommers cleft and tore : But Grace shor'd these, and cut that as it grew. Then Sinne combin'd with Death in a firm band To rase the building to the very floore : Which they effected, none could them withstand, But Love and Grace took Clone by the hand, And built a braver Palace then before. COLOSS. in. 3 Our life is hid 'with Christ in God. My words & thoughts do both expresse this notion, That Life hath with the sun a double motion. The first Is straight, and our diurnall friend, The other Hid, and doth obliquely bend. One life is wrapt In flesh, and tends to earth The other winds towards Him, whose happie birth Taught me to live here so, That still one eye Should aim and shoot at that which Js on high : Quitting with daily labour all My pleasure, To gain at harvest an eternall Treasure. 82 VANITIE VANITIE THE fleet Astronomer can bore, And thred the spheres with his quick-piercing minde ; He views their stations, walks from doore to doore, Surveys, as if he had design'd To make a purchase there : he sees their dances, And knoweth long before, Both their full-ey'd aspects, and secret glances. The nimble Diver with his side Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch His dearely-earned pearl, which God did hide On purpose from the ventrous wretch ; That he might save his life, and also hers, Who with excessive pride Her own destruction and his danger wears. The subtil Chymick can devest And strip the creature naked, till he finde The callow principles within their nest : There he imparts to them his minde, Admitted to their bed-chamber, before They appeare trim and drest To ordinarie suitours at the doore. What hath not man sought out and found, But his deare God ? who yet his glorious law Embosomes in us, mellowing the ground With showres and frosts, with love & aw, So that we need not say, Where's this command ? Poore man, thou searches! round To finde out death, but missest life at hand. 83 THE CHURCH LENT WELCOME deare feast of Lent : who loves not thee, He loves not Temperance, or Authoritie, But is compos'd of passion. The Scriptures bid us fast; the Church sayes, now: Give to thy Mother, what thou wouldst allow To ev'ry Corporation. The humble soul compos'd of love and fear Begins at home, and layes the burden there, When doctrines disagree He sayes, in things which use hath justly got, I am a scandall to the Church, and not The Church is so to me. True Christians should be glad of an occasion To use their temperance, seeking no evasion, When good is seasonable ; Unlesse Authoritie, which should increase The obligation in us, make it lesse, And Power it self disable. Besides the cleannesse of sweet abstinence, Quick thoughts and motions at a small expense, A face not fearing light : Whereas in fulnesse there are sluttish fumes, Sowre exhalations, and dishonest rheumes, Revenging the delight. VERTUE Then those same pendant profits, which the spring And Easter intimate, enlarge the thing, And goodnesse of the deed. Neither ought other mens abuse of Lent Spoil the good use ; lest by that argument We forfeit all our Creed. It's true, we cannot reach Christs forti'th day ; Yet to go part of that religious way, Is better then to rest : We cannot reach our Saviours puritie ; Yet are we bid, Be holy ev'n as he. In both let's do our best. Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone, Is much more sure to meet with him, then one That travelleth by-wayes : Perhaps my God, though he be farre before, May turn, and take me by the hand, and more May strengthen my decayes. Yet Lord instruct us to improve our fast By starving sinne and taking such repast, As may our faults controll : That ev'ry man may revell at his doore, Not in his parlour ; banquetting the poore, And among those his soul. VERTUE SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridall of the earth and skie : The dew shall weep thy fall to night ; For thou must die. 85 THE CHURCH Sweet rose, whose hue angrie and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye : Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet dayes and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie ; My musick shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Onely a sweet and vertuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives. THE PEARL (MATTHEW xiii.) I know the wayes of learning ; both the head And pipes that feed the presse, and make it runne ; What reason hath from nature borrowed, Or of it self, like a good huswife, spunne In laws and policie ; what the starres conspire, What willing nature speaks, what forc'd by fire ; Both th' old discoveries, and the new-found seas, The stock and surplus, cause and historic : All these stand open, or I have the keyes : Yet I love thee. 86 THE PEARL I know the wayes of honour, what maintains The quick returns of courtesie and wit : In vies of favours whether partie gains, When glorie swells the heart, and moldeth it To all expressions both of hand and eye, Which on the world a true-love-knot may tie, And bear the bundle, wheresoe're it goes : How many drammes of spirit there must be To sell my life unto my friends or foes : Yet I love thee. I know the wayes of pleasure, the sweet strains, The lullings and the relishes of it ; The propositions of hot bloud and brains ; What mirth and musick mean ; what love and wit Have done these twentie hundred yeares, and more I know the projects of unbridled store : My stuffe is flesh, not brasse ; my senses live, And grumble oft, that they have more in me Then he that curbs them, being but one to five : Yet I love thee. I know all these, and have them in my hand : Therefore not sealed, but with open eyes I flic to thee, and fully understand Both the main sale, and the commodities ; And at what rate and price I have thy love ; With all the circumstances that may move : Yet through the labyrinths, not my groveling wit, But thy silk twist let down from heav'n to me. Did both conduct and teach me, how by it To climbe to thee. THE CHURCH AFFLICTION BROKEN in pieces all asunder, Lord hunt me not, A thing forgot, Once a poore creature, now a wonder, A wonder tortur'd in the space Betwixt this world and that of grace. My thoughts are all a case of knives, Wounding my heart With scatter'd smart, As watring pots give flowers their lives. Nothing their furie can controll, While they do wound and prick my soul. All my attendants are at strife, Quitting their place Unto my face : Nothing performs the task of life : The elements are let loose to fight, And while I live, trie out their right. Oh help, my God ! let not their plot Kill them and me, And also thee, Who art my life : dissolve the knot, As the sunne scatters by his light All the rebellions of the night. MAN Then shall those powers, which work for grief, Enter thy pay, And day by day Labour thy praise, and my relief; With care and courage building me, Till I reach heav'n, and much more thee. MAN MY God, I heard this day, That none doth build a stately habitation, But he that means to dwell therein. What house more stately hath there been, Or can be, then is Man ? to whose creation All things are in decay. For Man is ev'ry thing, And more : He is a tree, yet bears no fruit ; A beast, yet is, or should be more : Reason and speech we onely bring. Parrats may thank us, if they are not mute, They go upon the score. Man is all symmetrie, Full of proportions, one limbe to another, And all to all the world besides : Each part may call the farthest, brother : For head with foot hath private amitie, And both with moons and tides. 89 THE CHURCH Nothing hath got so farre, But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey. His eyes dismount the highest starre : He is in little all the sphere. Herbs gladly cure our flesh ; because that they Finde their acquaintance there. For us the windes do blow, The earth doth rest, heav'n move, and fountains flow. Nothing we see, but means our good, As our delight, or as our treasure : The whole is, either our cupboard of food, Or cabinet of pleasure. The starres have us to bed ; Night draws the curtain, which the sunne withdraws ; Musick and light attend our head. All things unto omjlesh are kinde In their descent and being ; to our minde In their ascent and cause. Each thing is full of dutie : Waters united are our navigation ; Distinguished, our habitation ; Below, our drink ; above, our meat ; Both are our cleanlinesse. Hath one such beautie ? Then how are all things neat ? More servants wait on Man, Then he'l take notice of: in ev'ry path He treads down that which doth befriend him, When sicknesse makes him pale and wan. Oh mightie love ! Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him 90 ANTIPHON Since then, my God, thou hast So brave a Palace built ; O dwell in it, That it may dwell with thee at last ! Till then, afford us so much wit ; That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee, And both thy servants be. ANTIPHON Char. PRAISED be the God of love, Men. Here below, Angels. And here above : Cho. Who hath dealt his mercies so, Ang. To his friend, Men. And to his foe ; Cho. That both grace and glorie tend Ang. Us of old, Men. And us in th' end. Cho. The great shepherd of the fold Ang. Us did make, Men. For us was sold. Cho. He our foes in pieces brake ; Ang. Him we touch ; Men. And him we take. Cho. Wherefore since that he is such, Ang. We adore, Men. And we do crouch. THE CHURCH Cbo. Lord, thy praises should be more. Men. We have none, Ang. And we no store. Cho. Praised be the God alone, Who hath made of two folds one. UNKINDNESSE LORD, make me coy and tender to offend : In friendship, first I think, if that agree, Which I intend, Unto my friends intent and end. I would not use a friend, as I use Thee. If any touch my friend, or his good name ; It is my honour and my love to free His blasted fame From the least spot or thought of blame. I could not use a friend, as I use Thee. My friend may spit upon my curious floore : Would he have gold ? I lend it instantly ; But let the poore, And thou within them starve at doore. I cannot use a friend, as I use Thee. When that my friend pretend eth to a place, I quit my interest, and leave it free : But when thy grace Sues for my heart, I thee displace, Nor would I use a friend, as I use Thee. 92 LIFE Yet can a friend what thou hast done fulfill ? O write in brasse, My God upon a tree His bloud did spill Onely to purchase my good-will : Tet use I not my foes, as I use thee. LIFE I MADE a posie, while the day ran by : Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band. But time did becken to the flowers, and they By noon most cunningly did steal away, And wither'd in my hand. My hand was next to them, and then my heart : I took, without more thinking, in good part Times gentle admonition : Who did so sweetly deaths sad taste convey, Making my minde to smell my fatall day ; Yet sugring the suspicion. Farewell deare flowers, sweetly your time ye spent, Fit, while ye liv'd, for smell or ornament, And after death for cures. I follow straight without complaints or grief, Since if my sent be good, I care not, if It be as short as yours. 93 THE CHURCH SUBMISSION BUT that thou art my wisdome, Lord, And both mine eyes are thine, My minde would be extreamly stirr'd For missing my designe. Were it not better to bestow Some place and power on me ? Then should thy praises with me grow, And share in my degree. But when I thus dispute and grieve, I do resume my sight, And pilfring what I once did give, Disseize thee of thy right. How know I, if thou shouldst me raise, That I should then raise thee ? Perhaps great places and thy praise Do not so well agree. Wherefore unto my gift I stand ; I will no more advise : Onely do thou lend me a hand, Since thou hast both mine eyes. JUSTICE I CANNOT skill of these thy wayes. Lord, thou didst make me, yet thou vuoundest me ; Lord, thou dost 'wound me, yet thou dost relieve me . Lord, thou relieves t, yet I die by thee : Lord, thou dost kill me, yet thou dost reprieve me. 94 CHARMS AND KNOTS But when I mark my life and praise, Thy justice me most fitly payes : For, I do praise thee, yet I praise thee not : My prayers mean thee, yet my prayers stray : I 'would do 'well, yet sinne the hand hath got : My soul doth love thee, yet it loves delay. I cannot skill of these my wayes. CHARMS AND KNOTS WHO reade a chapter when they rise, Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes. A poore mans rod, when thou dost ride, Is both a weapon and a guide. Who shuts his hand, hath lost his gold : Who opens it, hath it twice told. Who goes to bed and doth not pray, Maketh two nights to ev'ry day. Who by aspersions throw a stone At th' head of others, hit their own. Who looks on ground with humble eyes, Findes himself there, and seeks to rise. When th' hair is sweet through pride or lust, The powder doth forget the dust. Take one from ten, and what remains ? Ten still, if sermons go for gains. In shallow waters heav'n doth show ; But who drinks on, to hell may go. 95 THE CHURCH AFFLICTION MY God, I read this day, That planted Paradise was not so firm, As was and is thy floting Ark ; whose stay And anchor thou art onely, to confirm And strengthen it in ev'ry age, When waves do rise, and tempests rage. At first we liv'd in pleasure ; Thine own delights thou didst to us impart : When we grew wanton, thou didst use displeasure To make us thine : yet that we might not part, As we at first did board with thee, Now thou wouldst taste our miserie. There is but joy and grief ; If either will convert us, we are thine : Some Angels us'd the first ; if our relief Take up the second, then thy double line And sev'rall baits in either kinde Furnish thy table to thy minde. Affliction then is ours ; We are the trees, whom shaking fastens more, While blustring windes destroy the wanton bowres, And ruffle all their curious knots and store. My God, so temper joy and wo, That thy bright beams may tame thy bow. 96 MORTIFICATION MORTIFICATION How soon doth man decay ! When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets To swaddle infants, whose young breath Scarce knows the way ; Those clouts are little winding sheets, Which do consigne and send them unto death. When boyes go first to bed, They step into their voluntarie graves, Sleep bindes them fast ; onely their breath Makes them not dead : Successive nights, like rolling waves, Convey them quickly, who are bound for death. When youth is frank and free, And calls for musick, while his veins do swell, All day exchanging mirth and breath In companie ; That musick summons to the knell, Which shall befriend him at the house of death. When man grows staid and wise, Getting a house and home, where he may move Within the circle of his breath, Schooling his eyes ; That dumbe inclosure maketh love Unto the coffin, that attends his death. 97 THE CHURCH When age grows low and weak, Marking his grave, and thawing ev'ry yeare, Till all do melt, and drown his breath W hen he would speak ; A chair or litter shows the biere, Which shall convey him to the house of death. Man, ere he is aware, Hath put together a solemnitie, And drest his herse, while he has breath As yet to spare : Yet Lord, instruct us so to die, That all these dyings may be life in death. DECAY SWEET were the dayes, when thou didst lodge with Struggle with Jacob, sit with Gideon, Lot, Advise with Abraham, when thy power could not Encounter Moses strong complaints and mone : Thy words were then, Let me alone. One might have sought and found thee presently At some fair oak, or bush, or cave, or well : Is my God this way ? No, they would reply : He is to Sinai gone, as we heard tell : List, ye may heare great Aarons bell. But now thou dost thy self immure and close In some one corner of a feeble heart : Where yet both Sinne and Satan, thy old foes, Do pinch and straiten thee, and use much art To gain thy thirds and little part. 98 MISERIE I see the world grows old, when as the heat Of thy great love once spread, as in an urn Doth closet up it self, and still retreat, Cold sinne still forcing it, till it return, And calling Justice, all things burn. MISERIE LORD, let the Angels praise thy name. Man is a foolish thing, a foolish thing, Folly and Sinne play all his game. His house still burns, and yet he still doth sing, Man is but grasse, He knows it, Jill the glasse. How canst thou brook his foolishnesse ? Why he'l not lose a cup of drink for thee : Bid him but temper his excesse ; Not he : he knows, where he can better be, As he will swear, Then to serve thee in fear. What strange pollutions doth he wed, And make his own ? as if none knew, but he. No man shall beat into his head, That thou within his curtains drawn canst see : They are of cloth, Where never yet came moth. 99 THE CHURCH The best of men, turn but thy hand For one poore minute, stumble at a pinne : They would not have their actions scann'd, Nor any sorrow tell them that they sinne, Though it be small, And measure not their fall. They quarrell thee, and would give over The bargain made to serve thee : but thy love Holds them unto it, and doth cover Their follies with the wing of thy milde Dove, Not sufFring those Who would, to be thy foes. My God, Man cannot praise thy name : Thou art all brightnesse, perfect puritie ; The sunne holds down his head for shame, Dead with eclipses, when we speak of thee : How shall infection Presume on thy perfection ? As dirtie hands foul all they touch, And those things most, which are most pure and fine: So our clay hearts, ev'n when we crouch To sing thy praises, make them lesse divine. Yet either this, Or none thy portion is. Man cannot serve thee ; let him go, And serve the swine : there, there is his delight : He doth not like this vertue, no ; Give him his dirt to wallow in all night : These Preachers make His head to shoot and ake. 100 MISERIE Oh foolish man ! where are thine eyes ? How hast thou lost them in a croud of cares ? Thou pull'st the rug, and wilt not rise, No not to purchase the whole pack of starres : There let them shine, Thou must go sleep, or dine. The bird that sees a daintie bowre Made in the tree, where she was wont to sit, Wonders and sings, but not his power Who made the arbour : this exceeds her wit. But Man doth know The spring, whence all things flow : And yet as though he knew it not, His knowledge winks, and lets his humours reigne ; They make his life a constant blot, And all the bloud of God to run in vain. Ah wretch ! what verse Can thy strange wayes rehearse ? Indeed at first Man was a treasure, A box of jewels, shop of rarities, A ring, whose posie was, My pleasure : He was a garden in a Paradise : Glorie and grace Did crown his heart and face. But sinne hath fool'd him. Now he is A lump of flesh, without a foot or wing To raise him to the glimpse of blisse : A sick toss'd vessel, dashing on each thing ; Nay, his own shelf: My God, I mean my self. 101 THE CHURCH JORDAN WHEN first my lines of heav'nly joyes made mention, Such was their lustre, they did so excell, That I sought out quaint words, and trim invention ; My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell, Curling with metaphors a plain intention, Decking the sense, as if it were to sell. Thousands of notions in my brain did runne, Off'ring their service, if I were not sped : I often blotted what I had begunne ; This was not quick enough, and that was dead. Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the sunne, Much lesse those joyes which trample on his head. As flames do work and winde, when they ascend, So did I weave my self into the sense. But while I bustled, I might heare a friend Whisper, Hotv wide is all this long pretence ! There is in love a s