This day my Saviour rose,

And did enclose this light for his:
That, as each beast his manger knows,
Man might not of his fodder mifs.
Chrift hath took in this piece of ground,
And made a garden there for thosc

Who want herbs for their wound.

The reft of our creation

Our great Redeemer did remove
With the fame shake, which at his paffion
Did th' earth and all things with it move.
As Sampfon bore the doors away,

Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought our salvation, And did unhinge that day.

The brightness of that day

We fullied by our foul offence:

Wherefore that robe we caft away,

Having a new at his expence,

Whofe drops of blood paid the full price,
That was requir'd to make us gay,
And fit for paradife..

Thou art a day of mirth :

And where the week-days trail on ground,
Thy flight is higher as thy birth:

O let me take thee at the bound,

Leaping with thee from fev'n to fev'n,
Till that we both, being tofs'd from earth,
Fly hand in hand to heaven!

Avarice.

[ONEY, thou bane of blifs, and fource of woe,

I know thy parentage is base and low: Man found thee poor and dirty in a mine.

Surely thou didst fo little contribute

and

(fine?

To this great kingdom, which thou now haft got, That he was fain, when thou wast destitute,

To dig thee out of thy dark cave and grot.

Then forcing thee, by fire he made thee bright:
Nay, thou haft got the face of man; for we
Have with our ftamp and feal transfer'd our right,
Thou art the man, and man but drofs to thee.
Man calleth thee his wealth, who made thee rich;
And while he digs out thee, falls in the ditch.

Ana- {MRMY } gram.

HOW

well her name an Army

doth prefent,

In whom the Lord of Hofts did pitch his tent.

To all Angels and Saints.

Oglorious cof God, without a frown,

H glorious fpirits, who after all your bands,

Or ftrict commands:

Where ev'ry one is king, and hath his crown,
If not upon his head, yet in his hands:

Not out of envy or maliciousness
Do I forbear to crave your fpecial aid.
I would addrefs

My vows to thee moft gladly, blessed maid,
And mother of my God, in my distress:

Thou art the holy mine, whence came the gold,
The great reftorative for all decay

In young and old;

Thou art the cabinet where the jewel lay:
Chiefly to thee would I my foul unfold.
But now (alasd) Ildare not; for our king,
Whom we do all jointly adore and praise,
Bids no fuch thing:

And where his pleasure no injunction lays,
('Tis your own case) ye never move a wing.
All worship is prerogative, and a flower
Of his rich crown, from whom lies no appeal
At the last hour:

Therefore we dare not from his garland steal
To make a pofy for inferior power.

Although then others court you, if ye know
What's done on earth, we fhall not fare the worse,
Who do not fo;

Since we are ever ready to difburfe,

If any one our Mafter's hand can how.

Employment.

HE that is weary, let him fit;

My foul would stir

And trade in courtefies and wit,

Quitting the fur,

The cold complexions needing it.

Man is no ftar, but a quick coal
Of mortal fire:

Who blows it not, nor doth control
A faint defire,

Lets his own afhes choke his foul.

When th' elements did for place conteft
With him whofe will

Ordain'd the highest to be beft,

The earth fat ftill,

And by the others is oppreft.

Life is a business, not good cheer;
Ever in wars..

The fun ftill fhineth there or here,

Whereas the stars

Watch an advantage to appear.

Oh that I were an orange-tree,

That bufy plant!

Then should I ever laden be,

And never want

Some fruit for him that dreffeth me.

But we are ftill too young or old;

The man is gone

Before we do our wares unfold:

So we freeze on,

Until the grave increase our cold.

Denial.

WHEN my devotions could not pierce.

Thy, filent ears;

Then was my heart broken, as was my verfe; My breaft was full of fears

And diforder.

My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow,
Did fly afunder;

Each took his way: fome would to pleasure go,
Some to the wars and thunder
Of alarms.

As good go any where, fay they,
As to benumb

Both knees and heart, in crying, night and day,
Come, come, my God, O come!
But no hearing.

O that thou shouldst give dust a tongue
To cry to thee,

And then not hear it crying! all day long
My heart was in my knee,
But no hearing.

Therefore my foul lay out of fight,
Untun'd, unftrung:
My feeble fpirit, unable to look right,
Like a nipt bloffom, hung
Discontented.

O cheer and tune my heartless breaft,
Defer no time;

That fo thy favours granting my request,
They and my mind may chime,
And mend my rhyme.

Christmas.

LL after pleasures, as I rid one day,

A My horfe and I both tir'd, body and mind,

With full cry of affections quite aftray, I took up in the next inn I could find.