Christ lou'd to death, yet loue did neuer die ; For loue by death did worke the death of death!
Oh liuing loue! oh heauenly mysterie!
Too great a glory for this world beneathe,
The blessed breathing of the highest breathe.
Blest are they borne that onely finde in thee,
Oh blessed God, what blessed loue may be!
Amidde the skie there is one onely sunne;
Amidde the ayre one onely phoenix flies;
One onely time by which all houres doe runne;
One onely life that liues and neuer dies
One onely eye that euerie thought descries;
One onely light that shewes our onely loue;
One onely loue; and that is God aboue.
To say yet further what this loue may be,
It is a holy heauenly excellence;
Aboue the power of any eye to see,
Or wit to finde by world's experience:
It is the spirit of life's quintessence;
Whose rare effects may partly be perceiued,
But to the full can neuer be conceiued.
It is repentance' sweet restoratiue;
The Rosa solis the sicke soule reuiueth;
It is the faithfull heart's preseruatiue;
It is the hauen where happie grace arriueth;
It is the life that death of power depriueth:
It is, in summe, the euerlasting blisse,
Where God alone in all his glorie is.
It is a ioy that neuer comes in iest;
A comfort that doth cast off euery care;
A rule wherein the life of life doth rest,
Where all the faithfull finde their happie fare;
A good that doth but onely God declare;
A line that his right hand doth draw so euen, As leads the soule the hyway unto heauen. If then henceforth you aske what thing is loue, In light, in life, in grace, in God, goe looke it; And if in these you doe not truely prooue How in your hearts you may for euer booke it, Vnhappy thinke yourselues you haue mistook it: For why? the life that death hath ouer-trod Is but the loue of Grace, and that is God.
WHEN the angels all are singing
All of glorie euer springing
In the ground of high heauen's graces,
Where all vertues haue their places;
Oh that my poore soule were neare them,
With an humble heart to heare them!
Then should faith, in loue's submission
Ioying but in mercie's blessing,
Where that sinnes are in remission,
Sing the ioyful soule's confessing;
Of her comforts high commending
All in glorie neuer ending.
But, ah wretched sinfull creature!
How should the corrupted nature
Of this wicked heart of mine
Thinke vpon that loue diuine,
That doth tune the angels' voices,
While the hoast of heauen reioyces?
No! the songe of deadly sorrowe
In the night that hath no morrow,
And their paines are neuer ended
That haue heauenly powers offended,
Is more fitting to the merite
Of my foule infected spirit.
Yet while mercie is remoouing
All the sorrowes of the louing,
How can faith be full of blindnesse
To despaire of mercie's kindnesse;
While the hand of heauen is giuing
Comfort from the euer-liuing?
No, my soule, be no more sorie;
Looke vnto that life of glorie
Which the grace of faith regardeth,
And the teares of loue rewardeth;
Where the soule the comfort getteth,
That the angels' musique setteth.
There when thou art well conducted,
And by heauenly grace instructed
How the faithfull thoughts to fashion
Of a rauisht louer's passion,
Sing with sainctes to angels nighest
Halleluiah in the highest.
From "The Soules Harmony."
LORD, when I thinke how I offend thy will,
And know what good is in obedience to it,
And see my hurt, and yet continue still
In doing ill, and cannot leaue to do it;
And then againe doe feele that bitter smart
That inward breeds of pleasures after-paine,
When scarce the thought is entred in my heart
But it is gone, and sinne gets in againe:
And when againe the act of sinne is past,
And that thy grace doth call me backe againe,
Then in my teares I runne to thee as fast,
And of my sinnes and of myselfe complayne:
What can I doe but cry, Sweet Iesus, saue me?
For I am nothing but what thou wilt haue me.
My heauenly Loue, from that high throne of thine,
Where gracious mercy sits in glorie's seat,
In that true pity of thy power diuine,
That dries the teares that mercy doe entreat,
Behold, sweet Lord, these bleeding drops of loue
That melt my soule in sorrow of my sinne;
And let these showres some drops of mercy moue,
That in my griefe my comfort may beginne:
Let not despaire confound my praying hope,
That begs an almes at thy mercie's gate;
But let thy grace thy hand of bountie ope,
That comfort yeelds which neuer comes too late:
That in the cure of my consuming griefe
My ioyful soule may sing of thy reliefe.
AN EXAMPLE OF PRAIER AGAINST IDOLATROUS TYRANTES,
THAT SET VP FALSE WORSHIP IN THE REPROCHE OF GOD'S TRUE WORSHYP.
Out of the cxv. Psalme.
IF vnto vs poore mortall men
No prayse is due of very ryght,
How are they mockte and blynded then,
How farre are they from perfect sight,
That to a stocke or dead image
Will geue such laude as God should haue!
How vayne is he, howe doth he rage,
That doth God's glorie so depraue!
The which sinne and most vyle offence
David did so abhorre and hate,
That he a psalme in God's defence
Compiled hath, that each estate
May vnderstande howe farre awrye
They wandred be from righteousnes,
The lyuing God that doe denye
By an image or false lykenes:
And therfore doth all men exhorte
To feare the Lorde, and in hym truste;
Which is a true and sure comforte
To all that in his hope are iust.
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