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O come! for thou doft know the way:
Or if to me thou wilt not move,
Remove me where I need not fay,

Drop from above.

Praise.

To write a verfe or two is all the praise

That I can raise :

Mend my eftate in any ways,
Thou fhalt 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 fuch thing

As prince or king:

His arm is fhort, yet with a fling
He may do more.

An herb diftill'd, and drunk, may dwell next door,
On the fame 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.

Affliction.

KILL me not ev'ry day,

Thou Lord of life; fince 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 fewer, fea, and brine;
What were they all, compar'd to thine ?
Wherein if they were fet,

They would difcolour thy most bloody fweat.

Thou art my grief alone,

Thou Lord conceal it not: And as thou art
All my delight, fo all my fmart:
Thy crofs took up in one,

By way of impreft, all my future moan.

Mattens.

I

Cannot ope mine eyes,

But thou art ready there to catch
My morning-foul and facrifice:

Then we must needs for that day make a match.
My God, what is a heart ?

Silver, or gold, or precious stone,
Or ftar, or rainbow, or a part
Of all these things, or all of them in one:
My God, what is a heart,

That thou should ft it fo eye and woo,
Pouring upon it all thy art,

As if that thou hadst nothing else to do?
Indeed man's whole eftate

Amounts (and richly) to ferve thee:
He did not heav'n and earth create,
Yet ftudies them, not him by whom they be.
Teach me thy love to know;

That this new light, which now I fee,

May both the work and workman fhow: Then by a fun-beam I will climb to thee, a

Sin.

H that I could a fin once fee!

OH

We paint the devil foul, yet he
Hath fome good in him, all agree.
Sin is flat oppofite 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 fight of fin we should grow mad.
Yet as in fleep we fee foul death, and live;
So devils are our fins in profpective.

Even-Song.

BLEST be the God of Love,

Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day, Both to be bufy, and to play.

But much more bleft be God above,

Who gave me fight alone,

Which to himfelf he did deny:

For when he fees my ways, I die:
But I have got his Son, and he hath none.

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 coft,

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 ftill thou goest on,

And now with darkness closest weary eyes,
Saying to man, It doth fuffice,
Henceforth repofe; your work is done.

Thus in thy ebony-box

Thou doft enclofe us till the day
Put our amendment in our way,

And give new wheels to our diforder'd clocks.

I mufe which fhews 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 breast,
But brings a favour from above;

And in this love, more than in bed, I rest.

WHI

Church-Monuments.

HILE that my foul repairs to her devotion,
Here I intomb my flesh, that it betimes
May take acquaintance of this heap of duft;
To which the blaft of death's inceffant motion,
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes,
Drives all at laft. Therefore I gladly truft

My body to the school, that it may learn
To spell his elements, and find his birth
Written in dufty heraldry and lines.
Which diffolution fure doth best discern,
Comparing duft with duft, and earth with earth.
Thefe laugh at jeat, and marble put for figns,

To fever the good fellowship of dust,

And spoil the mecting. What fhall point out them,
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat
To kiss thofe heaps, which now they have in truft?
Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here they stem
And true defcent: that when thou shalt grow fat,
And wanton in thy cravings, thou may'ft know,
That flesh is but the glafs which holds the duft
That measures all our time; which alfo fhall
Be crumbled into duft. Mark here below,
How tame these afhes are, how free from luft,
That thou may'it fit thyfelf against thy fall.

SWE

Church-Music.

WEETEST of fweets, 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 affign'd.

Now I in you without a body move,

Rifing and falling with your wings: We both together fweetly live and love,

Yet fay fometimes, God help poor kings. Comfort, I'll die; for if you poft from me, Sure I fhall do fo, and much more:

But if I travel in your company,

I

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 chilnefs of my faint demands,

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