Doctrine and life, colors and light, in one
When they combine and mingle, bring
A strong regard and awe: but speech alone
Doth vanish like a flaring thing;
And in the ear, not conscience, ring.

Trinity Sunday.

LORD, who hast formed me out of mud,
And hast redeemed me through thy blood,
And sanctified me to do good;

Purge all my sins done heretofore:
For I confess my heavy score,
And I will strive to sin no more.

Enrich my heart, mouth, hands, in me,
With Faith, with Hope, with Charity;
That I may run, rise, rest, with thee.

Content.

PEACE, muttering thoughts! and do not grudge to keep
Within the walls of your own breast.

Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep
Can on another's hardly rest.

Gad not abroad at every quest and call
Of an untrained hope or passion.

To court each place or fortune that doth fall,
Is wantonness in contemplation.

Mark, how the fire in flints doth quiet lie,
Content and warm t' itself alone;

But when it would appear to others' eye,
Without a knock it never shone.

Give me the pliant mind, whose gentle measure
Complies and suits with all estates;

Which can let loose to a crown, and yet with pleasure Take up within a cloister's gates.

This soul doth span the world, and hang content
From either pole unto the centre:

Where, in each room of the well-furnished tent,
He lies warm, and without adventure.

The brags of life are but a nine days wonder
And, after death, the fumes that spring
From private bodies, make as big a thunder,
As those which rise from a huge king.

Only thy chronicle is lost and yet

Better by worms be all once spent,

Than to have hellish moths still gnaw and fret
Thy name in books; which may not rent,

When all thy deeds, whose brunt thou feel'st alone,
Are chewed by others' pens and tongue;

And, as their wit is, (their digestion,)

Thy nourished fame is weak, or strong.

Then cease discoursing soul; till thine own ground.
Do not thyself or friends importune.

He that, by seeking, hath himself once found,
Hath ever found a happy fortune.

The Quiddity.

My God! a verse is not a crown;
No point of honor, or gay suit;
No hawk, or banquet, or renown;
Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute.

It cannot vault, or dance, or play;
It never was in France or Spain;
Nor can it entertain the day
With a great stable, or domain.

It is no office, art, or news;
Nor the exchange, or busy hall.
But it is that, which while I use,
I am with thee; and-most take all.

Pumility.

I SAW the Virtues sitting hand in hand,

In several ranks, upon an azure throne;

Where all the beasts and fowls, by their command,

Presented tokens of submission.

Humility, who sat the lowest there

To execute their call,

When by the beasts the presents tendered were, Gave them about to all.

The angry Lion did present his paw;

Which, by consent, was given to Mansuetude.
The fearful Hare, her ears, which by their law,
Humility did reach to Fortitude.

The jealous Turkey brought his coral chain:
That went to Temperance.

On Justice was bestowed the Fox's brain,

Killed in the way by chance.

At length, the Crow bringing the Peacock's plume,
(For he would not,) as they beheld the grace
Of that brave gift, each one began to fume,
And challenge it as proper to his place;

Till they fell out.

Which when the beasts espied,
They leaped upon the throne;

And, if the Fox had lived to rule their side,
They had deposed each one.

Humility, who held the plume, at this

Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down
Spoiled all the train: then saying, “Here it is
For which ye wrangle!" made them turn their frown
Against the beasts. So, jointly bandying,

They drive them soon away;
And then amerced them double gifts to bring
At the next session day.

Frailty.

LORD, in my silence, how do I despise
What upon trust

Is styled honor, riches, or fair eyes ;▾
But is fair dust!

I surname them gilded clay,

Dear earth, fine grass, or hay;

In all, I think my foot doth ever tread

Upon their head.

But, when I view abroad both regiments,

The world's, and thine;

Thine clad with simpleness, and sad events

Brave language, braver deeds;

That, which was dust before, doth quickly rise, And prick mine eyes.

Oh, brook not this! lest if, what even now
My foot did tread,

Affront those joys wherewith thou didst endow
And long since wed

My poor soul, e'en sick of love;
It may a Babel prove,

Commodious to conquer heaven and thee,
Planted in me.

Constancy.

WHO is the honest man ?

He that doth still, and strongly, good pursue;
To God, his neighbor, and himself, most true.
Whom neither force, nor fawning, can
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due.

Whose honesty is not

So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind
Can blow away, or glittering look it blind.

Who rides his sure and even trot,

While the world now rides by, now lags behind.