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Church Rents and Schisms.


Where thou didit lately fo-triumph and shine,
A worm doth fit, whost many feet and hair
Are the more foul the more thou art divine.
This, this hath done it; this did bite the root
And bottom of the leaves, which when the wind
Did once perceive, it blew them under foot,
Where rude unhallow'd feps du crush and grind

Their beauteous glories. Only throds ofithee;
And those all bitten, in thy chair I sec.

Why doth my mother blush ?' Is. The the Ráfe,,
And shows it fb ? Indeed Christ's precious blood
Gave you a colour once; which when


Thought to let out; the bleeding did you good,
And made you look much fresher than before.
But whendebates and fretting jealoufies
Did worm and work within you more and more,
Your colour faded, and calamities

Turned your ruddy into pale and bleak;
Your health and beauty both began to break.'

Then did you sev'ral parts ynloose and ftart :
Which when your neighbours saw, like a North wind
They rushed in, and cast them in the dirt
Where pagans tread. O mother dear and kind,
Where Thall I get me eyes enough to weep,
As many eyes as stars, since it is night,
And much of Asia and Europe fast asleep,
And even all Afric; would at least I night

With these two poor ones lick up all the dew,
Which falls by night, and pour it out for you.

Justice. O Dreadful Justice, what all rights and terror

thou of old,

When lin and esror;
Did show, and shape thy looks to me,

And thro' their glass discolour thee!
He that did but look up, was proud and bold.
The dishes of thy balance seem'd to gape,

Like two great pits;

The beam and scape Did like some tott'ring engine show:

Thy hand above did burn and glow, Danting the stouteft hearts, the proudest wits. But now that Christ's pure vail presents the light,

I fee no fears :

Thy hand is white,
Thy scales like buckets, which attend

Aud interchangeably descend,
Lifting to heaven from this well of tears,
For where before thou didst call on me,

Now I still touch

And harp on thee,
God's promises have made thee mine:

Why should I: Justice now decline ?
Against me there is none, but for me much.

The Pilgrimage.
Travel on, seeing the hill, where lay

My expectation,
A long it was and weary way:

The gloomy cave of desperation
I left on th' one, and on the other side

The rock of pride.

And so I came to Fancy's Meadows ftrow'd

With many a flower :
Fain would I here have made abode,

But I was quicken'd by my hour.
So to care's cops I came, and there got through

With much ado.

That led me to the wild of passion; which

Some call the world;
A wafted place, but sometimes rich.

Here I was robb’d of all my gold,
Save one good angel, which a friend had ty'd

Close to my side.

At length I got unto the gladsome hill,

Where lay my heart; and climbing still,

When I had gain'd the brow and top, A lake of brackish waters on the ground

Was all I found.

With that abash'd, and struck with many'a Ating,

Of swarming fears,
I fell, and cry'd, Alas my King!

Can both the way and end be tears ?
Yet taking heart, I rose, and then perceiv'd

I was deceiv'd.

My hill was further : fo I flung away,

Yet heard a cry
Just as I went, None goes that way

And lives; If that be all, said I,
After so foul a journey death is fair,

And but a chair.

Nay, ev'n to trust in him alone.

"The Holdfast.
I Threapped to obfe we the sweet decree

Of my dear God with all my power and might :

But I was told b: one it could not be ;
Yet I might trust in God to be my light.
Then will I trust, said I, in

was also his :
We must confess, that nothing is our own.
Then I confess that he my succour is.
But to have nought is ours, not to confess

That we have nought. I stood amaz'd at this,

Much troubled, till I heard a friend express,,
That all things were more ours by being his.

What Adam had, and forfeited for all,
Chrijl keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall,

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not beguile my heart,

Because thou art
My power and wisdom. Put me not to shame,

Because I am
Thy clay that weeps, thy dust that calls.
Thou art the Lord of glory; ;'.

The deed and story
Are both thy due : but I a silly fly,

That live or die,
According as thy weather falls. D
Art thou all justice, Lord ?

Shows not thy word
More attributes ? Am I all throat or eye,

To weep or cry?
Have I no parts but those of grief 2

Let not thy wrathful power

Aflict my hour,
My inch of life; or let thy gracious power

Contract my hour,
That I may climb and find relief,

The Discharge. BUSY inquiring heart

, what would & thon know ? And turn and leer, and with a licorous eye

Look high and low,

And in thy' lookings ftretch and grow? Haft thou not made thy counts, and summ'd up all?

Did not thy heart
Give up the whole, and with the whole depart?

Let what will fall :

That which is part who can recal ?
Thy life is God's, thy time to come is gore,

And is his right!
He is thy, night at noon: He is at night

Thy noon alone.

The crop is his, for he hath fowit.
And well it was for thee, when this befel,

That God did make
Thy business his, and in thy life partake:

For thou can't tell,

If it be his once, ali is well
Only the present is thy part add feet.

And happy thous
If, tho' thou didt not bear thy future Brow,

Thou could'nt well see
What prefette things-roquited of thee.

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