Ephesians iv. 30.

Grieve not the Holy Spirit, &c.

And art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove,
When I am sour,

And cross thy love?

Grieved for me? the God of strength and power
Grieved for a worm; which when I tread,
I pass away and leave it dead?

Then weep, mine eyes, the God of love doth grieve:
Weep, foolish heart,

And weeping, live:

For death is dry as dust. Yet if ye part,

End as the night, whose sable hue

Your sins express: melt into dew.

When saucy mirth shall knock or call at door,
Cry out, Get hence;

Or cry no more.

Almighty God doth grieve; he puts on sense :
I sin not to my grief alone,

But to my God's too: he doth groan.

O take thy lute, and tune it to a strain,
Which may with thee
All day complain.

There can no discord but in ceasing be.

Marbles can weep; and surely strings
More bowels have than such hard things.

Lord, I adjudge myself to tears and grief;
Even endless tears,

Without relief.

If a clear spring for me no time forbears,
But runs, although I be not dry;

I am no crystal, what shall I ?

Yet if I wail not still, (since still to wail
Nature denies;

And flesh would fail,

If my deserts were masters of mine eyes :)
Lord, pardon, for thy Son makes good
My want of tears with store of blood.

The Family.

WHAT doth this noise of thoughts within my heart,
As if they had a part?

What do these loud complaints and pulling fears,
As if there were no rule or ears?

But, Lord, the house and family are thine,
Though some of them repine.

Turn out these wranglers, which defile thy seat:
For where thou dwellest all is neat.

First Peace and Silence all disputes control,
Then Order plays the soul;

And, giving all things their set forms and hours,
Makes of wild woods sweet walks and bowers.

Humble Obedience near the door doth stand,
Expecting a command;

Than whom in waiting nothing seems more slow,—
Nothing more quick when she doth go.

Joys oft are there; and griefs as oft as joys,— But griefs without a noise;

Yet speak they louder than distempered fears. What is so shrill as silent tears?

This is thy house; with these it doth abound: And where these are not found,

Perhaps thou com'st sometimes, and for a day; But not to make a constant stay.

The Size.

CONTENT thee, greedy heart.

Modest and moderate joys, to those that have
Title to more hereafter when they part,

Are passing brave.

Let th' upper springs into the low
Descend and fall, and thou dost flow.

What though some have a fraught Of cloves and nutmegs, and in cinnamon sail? If thou hast wherewithal to spice a draught, When griefs prevail,

And for the future time art heir

To th' Isle of spices,-is't not fair?

To be in both worlds full,

Is more than God was; who was hungry here. Wouldst thou his laws of fasting disannul?

Enact good cheer?

Lay out thy joy, yet hope to save it?

Wouldst thou both eat thy cake, and have it?

Great joys are all at once;

But little do reserve themselves for more:

These have their hopes; those, what they have renounce,
And live on score:

Those are at home; these journey still,
And meet the rest on Zion's hill.

Thy Saviour sentenced joy,

And in the flesh condemned it as unfit,-
At least in lump: for such doth oft destroy;
Whereas a bit

Doth 'tice us on to hopes of more,
And, for the present, health restore

A Christian state and case
Is not a corpulent, but a thin and spare,
Yet active strength: whose long and bony face
Content and care

Do seem to equally divide,

Like a pretender, not a bride.

Wherefore sit down, good heart;

Grasp not at much, for fear thou losest all.

If comforts fell according to desert,

They would great frosts and snows destroy:
For we should count, Since the last joy.

Then close again the seam

Which thou hast opened. Do not spread thy robe,

In hope of great things.

Call to mind thy dream,—

An earthly globe,

On whose meridian was engraven,

These seas are tears, and heaven the haven.

Artillery.

As I one evening sat before my cell,
Methought a star did shoot into my lap.

I rose and shook my clothes, as knowing well,
That from small fires comes oft no small mishap;
When suddenly I heard one say,

Do as thou usest, disobey;

Expel good motions from thy breast, Which have the face of fire, but end in rest.

I, who had heard of music in the spheres,
But not of speech in stars, began to muse:
But turning to my God, whose ministers
The stars and all things are:-" If I refuse,
Dread Lord," said I, "so oft my good,
Then I refuse not e'en with blood
To wash away my stubborn thought:
For I will do, or suffer what I ought.

"But I have also stars and shooters too,
Born where thy servants both artilleries use.
My tears and prayers night and day do woo,
And work up to thee; yet thou dost refuse.
Not but I am (I must say still)

Much more obliged to do thy will,

Than thou to grant mine: but because

Thy promise now hath e'en set thee thy laws.

"Then we are shooters both, and thou dost deign To enter combat with us, and contest

With thine own clay. But I would parley fain: Shun not my arrows, and behold my breast.