But that which fhews them large, fhews them unfit.
Whatever fin did this pure rock commit,

Which holds thee now? Who hath indited it
Of murder?

Where our hard hearts have took up ftones to brain thee,

And miffing this, most falfely did arraign thee;

Only these stones in quiet entertain thee,
And order.

And as of old, the law by heavenly art
Was writ in ftone; fo thou, which also art
The letter of the word, find'st no fit heart

To hold thee.

Yet do we still perfift as we began,

And so should perish, but that nothing can,
Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man

Withhold thee.

XII. EASTER.

R

ISE heart; thy Lord is rifen. Sing his praise

Without delays,

Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise

With him mayst rife:

That, as his death calcined thee to dust,

His life may make thee gold, and much more juft.

D

Awake, my lute, and ftruggle for thy part

With all thy art.

The cross taught all wood to refound his name Who bore the fame.

His ftretched finews taught all strings, what key Is best to celebrate this most high day.

Confort both heart and lute, and twist a song

Pleasant and long:

Or fince all mufic is but three parts vied,
And multiplied;

O let thy bleffed Spirit bear a part,

And make up our defects with his sweet art.

I got me flowers to ftrew thy way;
I got me boughs off many a tree:
But thou waft up by break of day,

And brought'ft thy fweets along with thee.

The Sun arifing in the East,

Though he give light, and the Eaft perfume;
If they should offer to contest

With thy arifing, they prefume.

Can there be any day but this,
Though many funs to shine endeavour?
We count three hundred, but we miss:
There is but one, and that one ever.

EASTER

-WINGS.

XIII.

LORD, who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he loft the fame,

Decaying more and more,

Till he became

Moft poor:

With thee

O

let me rife

As larks, harmoniously,

And fing this day thy victories:

Then fhall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in forrow did begin:
And ftill with fickneffes and shame

Thou didst fo punish fin,

That I became

Most thin.

With thee

Let me combine,

And feel this day thy victory,

For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction fhall advance the flight in me.

XIV. HOLY BAPTISM.

S he that fees a dark and fhady grove,

Stays not, but looks beyond it on the sky;

So when I view my fins, mine eyes remove More backward ftill, and to that water fly,

Which is above the heavens, whose spring and vent
Is in my dear Redeemer's pierced fide.
O bleffed streams! either ye do prevent
And stop our fins from growing thick and wide,

Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow.
In you Redemption measures all my time,
And spreads the plaster equal to the crime:
You taught the book of life my name, that so,

Whatever future fins fhould me mifcall,
Your first acquaintance might difcredit all.

XV. HOLY BAPTISM.

INCE, Lord, to thee

SIN

A narrow way and little gate

Is all the paffage, on my infancy

Thou didst lay hold, and antedate

My faith in me.

O let me ftill

Write thee great God, and me a child:

Let me be soft and fupple to thy will,
Small to myself, to others mild,
Behither ill.

Although by stealth

My flesh get on; yet let her fifter My foul bid nothing, but preserve her wealth: The growth of flesh is but a blifter; Childhood is health.

F

XVI. NATURE.

ULL of rebellion, I would die,
Or fight, or travel, or deny

That thou haft ought to do with me.

O tame my heart;

It is thy highest art

To captivate ftrong holds to thee.

If thou shalt let this venom lurk,
And in fuggestions fume and work,
My foul will turn to bubbles straight,

And thence by kind
Vanish into a wind,

Making thy workmanship deceit.

O fmooth my rugged heart, and there
Engrave thy reverend law and fear;
Or make a new one, fince the old

Is fapless grown,
And a much fitter stone

To hide my duft, than thee to hold.