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O come! for thou dost know the way:
Or ifto me thou wilt not move,
Remove me where I need not say,
Drop from above.
Mend my estate in any ways,
Thou shalt have more.
I go to Church; help me to wings, and I
Will thither fly;
Or if I mount unto the sky,
I will do more.
Man is all weakness, there is no such thing
As prince or king :
His arm is short, yet with a sing
He may do more.
An herb distill’d, and drunk, may dwell next door,
On the same floor,
To a brave foul : Exalt the poor,
They can do more.
O raise me then! Poor bees that work all day
Sting my delay,
Who have a work as well as they,
And much, much more.
ILL me not ev'ry day,
Thou Lord of life; since thy own death for me
Is more than all my deaths can be,
Though I in broken pay
Die over each hour of Methusalem's stay. D 3
If all men's tears were let
Into one common sewer, fea, and brine ;
What were they all, compar'd to thiae ?
Wherein if they were set,
They would discolour thy most bloody sweat.
Thou art my grief alone,
Thou Lord conceal it not: And as thou art
All my delight, so all my smart :
Thy cross took up in one,
By way of impreft, all my future moan.
But thou art ready there to catch My morning-foul 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 star, or rainbow, or a part
Of all these things, or all of them in one :
My God, what is a heart,
That thou shouldīt it so eye and woo,
Pouring upon it all thy art,
As if that thou had it nothing else to do?
Indeed man's 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.
Teach me thy love to know ; That this new light, which now I see,
May both the work and workman fhow : Then by a sun-beam I will climb to thec. 1
H that I could a fin once see!
We paint the devil foul, yet he
Hath some good in him, all agree.
Sin is flat opposite to th’ Almighty, seeing
It wants the good of Virtue and of Being.
But God more care of us 'hath had,
If apparitions make us fad,
By sight of sin we should grow mad.
Yet as in deep we see foul death, and live:;
So devils are our sins in prospective.
Blest be the God of Love,
Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day,
Both to be busy, and to play.
But much more bleft be God above,
Who gave me fight alone,
Which to himfel he did deny:
For when he sees my ways, I die :
But I have got his Son, and he hath noņe.
What have. I brought thee home
For this thy love ? have I discharg'd the debt,
Which this day's favour did beget ?
I ran; but all I brought was fome.
Thy diet, care, and cost,
Do end in bubbles, balls of wind;
Of wind to thee whom I have croft,
But balls of wild-fire to my troubled mind,
Yet still thou goeft on,
And now with darkness closest weary eyes,
Saying to man, It doth suffice,
Hencefarth repose ; your work is done.
Thus in thy ebony-box
Thou doft enclose us till the day
Put our amendment in our way,
And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks.
I muse which shews 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 poor minute scapes thy breaft,
But brings a favour from above;
And in this love, more than in bed, I rest.
HILE that my soul repairs to her devotion,
Here I intomb my flesh, that it betimes
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust;
To which the blast of death's incessant motion,
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes,
Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust
My body to the school, that it
To spell his elements, and find his birth
Written in dusty heraldry and lines.
Which diffolution sure doth best discern,
Comparing duft with dust, and earth with earth.
These laugh at jeat, and marble put for signs,
To sever the good fellowship of duft,
And spoil the mecting. What shall point out them,
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat
To kiss those heaps, which now they have in trust?
Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here they ftem
And true descent: that when thou shalt grow fat,
And wanton in thy cravings, thou may'st know,
That flesh is but the glass 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 may'it fit thyself against thy fall.
WEETEST of sweets, I thank you ; when displeasure
Did thro’ my body wound my mind,
You took me thence, and in your house of pleasure
A dainty lodging me allign'd.
Now I in you without a body move,
Rising and falling with your wings :
We both together sweetly live and love,
Yet say sometimes, God help poor kings.
Comfort, I'll die ; for if you post from me,
Sure I shall do so, and much more :
But if I travel in your company,
You know the way to heaven's door.
Church Lock and Key..
Know it is my fin, which locks thine ears
And binds thy hands!
Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears;
Or else the chilness of my faint demands,