Her of your name, whose fair inheritance
Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo:
An active faith so highly did advance
That she once knew more than the Church did know,
The Resurrection; so much good there is
Delivered of her that some Fathers be
Loath to believe one woman could do this,
But think these Magdalens were two or three.
Increase their number, Lady, and their fame:
[10] To their devotion, add your innocence;
Take so much of th’example’as of the name,
The latter half; and in some recompense
That they did harbour Christ himself, a guest,
Harbour these hymns, to his dear name addressed.
1
Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise,
Weaved in my low, devout melancholy,
Thou which of good hast, yea art, treasury,
All changing, unchanged, Ancient of Days,
But do not with a vile crown of frail bays
Reward my muse’s white sincerity,
But what Thy thorny crown gained, that give me,
A crown of glory which doth flower always;
The ends crown our works, but Thou crown’st our ends,
[10] For at our end begins our endless rest;
The first, last end, now zealously possessed,
With a strong, sober thirst my soul attends.
’Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high,
Salvation to all that will is nigh.
2
Salvation to all that will is nigh;
That all, which always is all everywhere,
Which cannot sin and yet all sins must bear,
Which cannot die, yet cannot choose but die,
Lo, faithful Virgin, yields Himself to lie
[20] In prison in thy womb; and though He there
Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet He’will wear,
Taken from thence, flesh, which death’s force may try.
Ere by the spheres time was created, thou
Wast in His mind, who is thy son and brother,
Whom thou conceiv’st, conceived; yea, thou art now
Thy Maker’s maker and thy Father’s mother,
Thou’hast light in dark; and shut’st in little room,
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb.
3
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
[30] Now leaves His well-beloved imprisonment;
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough now into our world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath th’inn no room?
Yet lay him in this stall, and from the’Orient,
Stars and wisemen will travel to prevent
Th’effect of Herod’s jealous general doom;
See’st thou, my soul, with thy faith’s eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
[40] That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother who partakes thy woe.
4
With His kind mother who partakes thy woe,
Joseph, turn back; see where your child doth sit,
Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit,
Which Himself on the doctors did bestow;
The Word but lately could not speak, and lo
It suddenly speaks wonders, whence comes it,
That all which was and all which should be writ,
[50] A shallow seeming child should deeply know?
His Godhead was not soul to His manhood,
Nor had time mellowed Him to this ripeness,
But as for one which hath a long task, ’tis good
With the sun to begin His business,
He in His age’s morning thus began
By miracles exceeding power of man.
5
By miracles exceeding power of man,
He faith in some, envy in some begat,
For, what weak spirits admire, ambitious, hate;
[60] In both affections many to Him ran,
But O! the worst are most, they will and can,
Alas, and do, unto the’Immaculate,
Whose creature fate is, now prescribe a fate,
Measuring self-life’s infinity to’a span,
Nay to an inch. Lo, where condemned He
Bears His own cross with pain, yet by and by
When it bears Him, He must bear more and die;
Now Thou art lifted up, draw me to Thee,
And at Thy death giving such liberal dole,
[70] Moist with one drop of Thy blood my dry soul.
6
Moist with one drop of Thy blood, my dry soul
Shall (though she now be in extreme degree
Too stony hard, and yet too fleshly) be
Freed by that drop, from being starved, hard, or foul,
And life, by this death abled, shall control
Death whom Thy death slew; nor shall to me
Fear of first or last death bring misery,
If in thy little book my name thou’enrol,
Flesh in that long sleep is not putrefied,
[80] But made that there, of which, and for which, ’twas;
Nor can by other means be glorified.
May then sin’s sleep, and death’s soon from me pass,
That waked from both I again risen may
Salute the last and everlasting day.
7
Salute the last and everlasting day,
Joy at the’uprising of this sun, and Son,
Ye, whose just tears or tribulation
Have purely washed or burnt your drossy clay;
Behold the Highest, parting hence away,
[90] Lightens the dark clouds which He treads upon,
Nor doth He by ascending, show alone,
But first He, and He first, enters the way.
O strong Ram, which hast battered heaven for me,
Mild Lamb, which with Thy blood hast marked the path,
Bright Torch, which shin’st that I the way may see,
O, with Thy own blood quench Thy own just wrath,
And if Thy Holy Spirit my muse did raise,
Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise.
As due by many titles I resign
Myself to Thee, O God; first I was made
By Thee, and for Thee, and when I was decayed
Thy blood bought that, the which before was thine;
I am Thy son, made with Thyself to shine,
Thy servant, whose pains Thou hast still repaid,
Thy sheep, Thine image, and, till I betrayed
Myself, a temple of Thy Spirit divine;
Why doth the Devil then usurp on me?
[10] Why doth he steal, nay ravish, that’s Thy right?
Except Thou rise and for Thine own work fight,
O, I shall soon despair when I do see
That Thou lov’st mankind well, yet wilt’not choose me,
And Satan hates me, yet is loath to lose me.
O my black soul! Now thou art summoned
By sickness, death’s herald, and champion;
Thou art like a pilgrim which abroad hath done
Treason, and durst not turn to whence he’s fled,
Or like a thief, which till death’s doom be read,
Wisheth himself delivered from prison,
But damned and haled to execution,
Wisheth that still he might be’imprisoned.
Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack;
[10] But who shall give thee that grace to begin?
O make thyself with holy mourning black,
And red with blushing, as thou art with sin;
Or wash thee in Christ’s blood, which hath this might,
That being red, it dyes red souls to white.
This is my play’s last scene, here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span’s last inch, my minute’s latest point,
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint
My body’and soul, and I shall sleep a space,
But my’ever-waking part shall see that face
Whose fear already shakes my every joint;
Then, as my soul to’heaven, her first seat, takes flight,
[10] And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell;
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they’are bred, and would press me, to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the Devil.
At the round earth’s imagined corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go,
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o’erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God and never taste death’s woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
[10] For if above all these my sins abound,
’Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace
When we are there; here on this lowly ground,
Teach me how to repent; for that’s as good
As if Thou’hadst sealed my pardon with Thy blood.
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree,
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damned, alas, why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And mercy being easy and glorious
To God, in His stern wrath why threatens He?
But who am I that dare dispute with Thee?
[10] O God, O, of Thine only worthy blood
And my tears make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sin’s black memory.
That Thou remember them, some claim as debt;
I think it mercy, if Thou wilt forget.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul’s delivery.
Thou’art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
[10] And doth with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy’or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Spit in my face, you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet and scoff, scourge and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only He,
Who could do no iniquity, hath died:
But by my death cannot be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews’ impiety;
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify Him daily, being now glorified.
O let me then His strange love still admire:
[10] Kings pardon, but He bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent;
God clothed himself in vile man’s flesh that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
Why are we by all creatures waited on?
Why do the prodigal elements supply
Life and food to me, being more pure than I,
Simple and further from corruption?
Why brook’st thou, ignorant horse, subjection?
Who dost thou, bull and boar, so seelily
Dissemble weakness, and by’one man’s stroke die,
Whose whole kind you might swallow’and feed upon?
Weaker I am, woe’is me, and worse than you;
[10] You have not sinned, nor need be timorous.
But wonder at a greater wonder, for to us
Created nature doth these things subdue,
But their Creator, whom sin nor nature tied,
For us, His creatures and His foes, hath died.
What if this present were the world’s last night?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
Whether His countenance can thee affright,
Tears in His eyes quench the amazing light,
Blood fills His frowns, which from His pierced head fell.
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,
Which prayed forgiveness for His foes’ fierce spite?
No, no; but as in my idolatry
[10] I said to all my profane mistresses,
Beauty, of pity, foulness only is
A sign of rigour; so I say to thee,
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assigned,
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for You
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me,’and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurped town to’another due,
Labour to’admit You, but O, to no end.
Reason, Your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly’I love You, and would be loved fain,
[10] But am betrothed unto Your enemy;
Divorce me,’untie or break that knot again,
Take me to You, imprison me, for I,
Except You’enthral me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except You ravish me.
Wilt thou love God, as He thee! Then digest,
My soul, this wholesome meditation,
How God the Spirit, by angels waited on
In heaven, doth make His temple in thy breast.
The Father, having begot a Son most blest,
And still begetting (for He ne’er begun),
Hath deigned to choose thee by adoption,
Coheir to’His glory’and sabbath’s endless rest.
And as a robbed man which by search doth find
[10] His stol’n stuff sold, must lose or buy’it again,
The Son of Glory came down, and was slain,
Us whom He’had made, and Satan stol’n, to’unbind.
’Twas much that man was made like God before,
But that God should be made like man, much more.
Father, part of His double interest
Unto Thy kingdom, Thy Son gives to me;
His jointure in the knotty Trinity
He keeps, and gives to me His death’s conquest.
This Lamb, whose death with life the world hath blest,
Was from the world’s beginning slain, and He
Hath made two wills, which with the legacy
Of His and Thy kingdom do Thy sons invest.
Yet such are these laws that men argue yet
[10] Whether a man those statutes can fulfil;
None doth; but Thy all-healing grace and Spirit
Revive again what law and letter kill.
Thy law’s abridgement and Thy last command
Is all but love; O let this last will stand!
Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
Despair behind and death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feebled flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh;
Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee
[10] By Thy leave I can look, I rise again,
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour I can myself sustain;
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art,
And Thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.
O might those sighs and tears return again
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent,
That I might in this holy discontent
Mourn with some fruit, as I have mourned in vain;
In mine idolatry what showers of rain
Mine eyes did waste? What griefs my heart did rent?
That sufferance was my sin I now repent;
’Cause I did suffer, I must suffer pain.
Th’hydroptic drunkard and night-scouting thief,
[10] The itchy lecher and self-tickling proud
Have the remembrance of past joys for relief
Of coming ills. To (poor) me is allowed
No ease; for long yet vehement grief hath been
Th’effect and cause, the punishment and sin.
I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic sprite,
But black sin hath betrayed to endless night
My world’s both parts, and (O) both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it, if it must be drowned no more;
[10] But, O, it must be burnt. Alas, the fire
Of lust and envy burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler; let their flames retire,
And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal
Of Thee’and Thy house, which doth in eating heal.
If faithful souls be alike glorified
As angels, then my father’s soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felicity,
That valiantly I hell’s wide mouth o’erstride.
But if our minds to these souls be descried
By circumstances and by signs that be
Apparent in us not immediately,
How shall my mind’s white truth by them be tried?
They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn,
[10] And vile blasphemous conjurers to call
On Jesus’ name, and pharisaical
Dissemblers feign devotion. Then turn,
O pensive soul, to God, for He knows best
Thy grief, for He put it’into my breast.
Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravished,
Wholly in heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek Thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found Thee, and Thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, when as Thou
[10] Dost woo my soul, for hers off’ring all Thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in Thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the world, flesh, yea devil put Thee out.
Show me, dear Christ, Thy spouse, so bright and clear.
What, is it she, which on the other shore
Goes richly painted? Or which robbed and tore
Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year?
Is she self-truth and errs? Now new, now’outwore?
Doth she,’and did she, and shall she evermore
On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?
Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
[10] First travail we to seek and then make love?
Betray, kind husband, Thy spouse to our sights,
And let mine amorous soul court Thy mild dove,
Who is most true and pleasing to Thee then
When she’is embraced and open to most men.
O, to vex me, contraries meet in one;
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot
A constant habit, that when I would not
I change in vows and in devotion.
As humorous is my contrition
As my profane love, and as soon forgot;
As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot,
As praying, as mute, as infinite, as none.
I durst not view heaven yesterday, and today
[10] In prayers and flattering speeches I court God;
Tomorrow’I quake with true fear of His rod.
So my devout fits come and go away
Like a fantastic ague, save that here
Those are my best days when I shake with fear.
Since Christ embraced the cross itself, dare I
His image, th’image of His cross deny?
Would I have profit by the sacrifice,
And dare the chosen altar to despise?
It bore all other sins, but is it fit
That it should bear the sin of scorning it?
Who from the picture would avert his eye,
How would he fly His pains, who there did die?
From me, no pulpit, nor misgrounded law,
[10] Nor scandal taken, shall this cross withdraw;
It shall not, for it cannot, for the loss
Of this cross were to me another cross.
Better were worse, for no affliction,
No cross, is so extreme as to have none;
Who can blot out the cross, which th’instrument
Of God dew’d on me in the Sacrament?
Who can deny me power and liberty
To stretch mine arms and mine own cross to be?
Swim, and at every stroke thou art thy cross;
[20] The mast and yard make one, where seas do toss.
Look down, thou spiest out crosses in small things;
Look up, thou see’st birds raised on crossed wings;
All the globe’s frame, and spheres, is nothing else
But the meridians crossing parallels.
Material crosses then good physic be,
But yet spiritual have chief dignity.
These for extracted chemic medicine serve,
And cure much better, and as well preserve;
Then are you your own physic, or need none
[30] When stilled or purged by tribulation.
For when that cross ungrudged unto you sticks,
Then are you to yourself a crucifix.
As, perchance, carvers do not faces make,
But that away, which hid them there, do take.
Let crosses, so, take what hid Christ in thee,
And be His image, or not His, but He.
But as oft alchemists do coiners prove,
So may a self-despising get self-love.
And then as worst surfeits of best meats be,
[40] So is pride issued from humility,
For ’tis no child, but monster; therefore, cross
Your joy in crosses, else ’tis double loss,
And cross thy senses, else, both they and thou
Must perish soon and to destruction bow.
For if the’eye seek good objects, and will take
No cross from bad, we cannot ’scape a snake.
So with harsh, hard, sour, stinking, cross the rest,
Make them indifferent; call nothing best.
But most the eye needs crossing that can roam
[50] And move; to th’others th’objects must come home.
And cross thy heart, for that in man alone
Points downwards and hath palpitation.
Cross those dejections when it downward tends,
And when it to forbidden heights pretends.
And as the brain through bony walls doth vent
By sutures, which a cross’s form present,
So when thy brain works, ere thou utter it,
Cross and correct concupiscence of wit.
Be covetous of crosses, let none fall.
[60] Cross no man else, but cross thyself in all.
Then doth the cross of Christ work faithfully
Within our hearts, when we love harmlessly
That cross’s pictures much, and with more care
That cross’s children, which our crosses are.
Sleep, sleep old Sun; thou canst not have repast
As yet the wound thou took’st on Friday last.
Sleep, then, and rest; the world may bear thy stay.
A better sun rose before thee today
Who, not content to’enlighten all that dwell
On the earth’s face, as thou enlight’ned hell,
And made the dark fires languish in that vale
As, at thy presence here, our fires grow pale.
Whose body, having walked on earth, and now
[10] Hasting to heaven, would, that He might allow
Himself unto all stations and fill all,
For these three days become a mineral.
He was all gold when He lay down, but rose
All tincture, and doth not alone dispose
Leaden and iron wills to good, but is
Of power to make even sinful flesh like His.
Had one of those, whose credulous piety
Thought that a soul one might discern and see
Go from a body,’at this sepulchre been,
[20] And, issuing from the sheet, this body seen,
He would have justly thought this body a soul,
If, not of any man, yet of the whole.
Desunt cætera.
Tamely frail body,’abstain today; today
My soul eats twice, Christ hither and away.
She sees Him man, so like God made in this
That of them both a circle emblem is,
Whose first and last concur; this doubtful day
Of feast or fast, Christ came, and went away;
She sees Him nothing twice at once, who’is all;
She sees a cedar plant itself and fall,
Her Maker put to making, and the head
[10] Of life, at once, not yet alive, yet dead;
She sees at once the Virgin Mother stay
Reclused at home, public at Golgotha.
Sad and rejoiced she’s seen at once, and seen
At almost fifty, and at scarce fifteen.
At once a son is promised her and gone,
Gabriel gives Christ to her, He her to John;
Not fully’a mother, she’s in orbity,
At once receiver and the legacy;
All this, and all between, this day hath shown,
[20] Th’abridgement of Christ’s story, which makes one
(As in plain maps, the farthest west is east)
Of the’angel’s Ave’and Consummatum est.
How well the Church, God’s court of faculties,
Deals in some times and seldom joining these;
As by the self-fixed pole we never do
Direct our course, but the next star thereto,
Which shows where the’other is, and which we say
(Because it strays not far) doth never stray;
So God by his Church, nearest to Him, we know,
[30] And stand firm, if we by her motion go;
His spirit, as His fiery pillar doth
Lead, and his Church, as cloud, to one end both:
This Church, by letting those days join, hath shown
Death and conception in mankind is one.
Or ’twas in Him the same humility,
That He would be a man and leave to be:
Or as creation He hath made, as God,
With the Last Judgement but one period,
His imitating spouse would join in one
[40] Manhood’s extremes: He shall come, He is gone;
Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall,
Accepted, would have served, He yet shed all;
So though the least of His pains, deeds, or words,
Would busy’a life, she all this day affords;
This treasure then, in gross, my soul uplay,
And in my life retail it every day.
I
The Father
Father of heaven, and Him by whom
It, and us for it, and all else, for us
Thou madest and govern’st ever, come
And recreate me, now grown ruinous.
My heart is by dejection, clay,
And by self-murder, red.
From this red earth, O Father, purge away
All vicious tinctures, that new fashioned
I may rise up from death before I’am dead.
II
The Son
[10] O Son of God, who seeing two things,
Sin and death crept in, which were never made,
By bearing one, tried’st with what stings
The other could Thine heritage invade.
O be Thou nailed unto my heart
And crucified again,
Part not from it, though it from Thee would part,
But let it be by applying so Thy pain,
Drowned in Thy blood, and in Thy passion slain.
III
The Holy Ghost
O Holy Ghost, whose temple I
[20] Am, but of mud walls and condensed dust,
And being sacrilegiously
Half wasted with youth’s fires of pride and lust,
Must with new storms be weather-beat.
Double in my heart Thy flame,
Which let devout sad tears intend; and let
(Though this glass lantern, flesh, do suffer maim)
Fire, sacrifice, priest, altar be the same.
IV
The Trinity
O blessed glorious Trinity,
Bones to philosophy but milk to faith,
[30] Which, as wise serpents diversely
Most slipperiness, yet most entanglings hath,
As You distinguished undistinct
By power, love, knowledge be,
Give me a such self different instinct,
Of these let all me elemented be
Of power, to love, to know You, unnumbered three.
V
The Virgin Mary
For that fair blessed mother-maid,
Whose flesh redeemed us; that she-cherubim,
Which unlocked paradise, and made
[40] One claim for innocence, and disseiz’d sin,
Whose womb was a strange heav’n, for there
God clothed Himself and grew,
Our zealous thanks we pour. As her deeds were
Our helps, so are her prayers; nor can she sue
In vain, who hath such titles unto You.
VI
The Angels
And since this life our nonage is,
And we in wardship to Thine angels be,
Native in heaven’s fair palaces
Where we shall be but denizened by Thee,
[50] As th’earth conceiving by the sun
Yields fair diversity,
Yet never knows which course that light doth run,
So let me study, that mine actions be
Worthy their sight, though blind in how they see.
VII
The Patriarchs
And let Thy patriarchs’ desire
(Those great grandfathers of Thy church, which saw
More in the cloud than we in fire,
Whom nature cleared more, than us grace and law,
And now in heaven still pray, that we
[60] May use our new helps right)
Be sanctified and fructify in me.
Let not my mind be blinder by more light,
Nor faith by reason added, lose her sight.
VIII
The Prophets
Thy eagle-sighted prophets too,
Which were Thy church’s organs and did sound
That harmony, which made of two
One law, and did unite, but not confound,
Those heavenly poets, which did see
Thy will, and it express
[70] In rhythmic feet, in common pray for me,
That I by them excuse not my excess
In seeking secrets, or poeticness.
IX
The Apostles
And Thy illustrious zodiac
Of twelve apostles, which engirt this all,
From whom whosoever do not take
Their light, to dark deep pits throw down and fall,
As through their prayers, Thou’hast let me know
That their books are divine.
May they pray still and be heard, that I go
[80] Th’old broad way in applying; O decline
Me when my comment would make Thy word mine.
X
The Martyrs
And since Thou so desirously
Didst long to die, that long before Thou could’st,
And long since Thou no more could’st die,
Thou in Thy scattered mystic body would’st
In Abel die, and ever since
In Thine, let their blood come
To beg for us a discreet patience
Of death, or of worse life: for, O, to some
[90] Not to be martyrs is a martyrdom.
XI
The Confessors
Therefore with Thee triumpheth there
A virgin squadron of white confessors,
Whose bloods betrothed, not married, were,
Tendered, not taken by those ravishers.
They know and pray that we may know,
In every Christian
Hourly tempestuous persecutions grow,
Temptations martyr us alive; a man
Is to himself a Diocletian.
XII
The Virgins
[100] The cold white snowy nunnery,
Which, as Thy mother, their high abbess sent
Their bodies back again to Thee,
As Thou had’st lent them, clean and innocent,
Though they have not obtained of Thee,
That or Thy church, or I
Should keep, as they, our first integrity.
Divorce Thou sin in us or bid it die,
And call chaste widowhead virginity.
XIII
The Doctors
Thy sacred academy above
[110] Of doctors, whose pains have unclasped and taught
Both books of life to us (for love
To know Thy scriptures tells us we are wrought
In Thy other book), pray for us there,
That what they have misdone
Or mis-said, we to that may not adhere,
Their zeal may be our sin. Lord, let us run
Mean ways, and call them stars, but not the sun.
XIV
And whil’st this universal choir,
That church in triumph, this in warfare here,
[120] Warmed with one all-partaking fire
Of love, that none be lost, which cost Thee dear,
Prays ceaselessly,’and Thou hearken too
(Since to be gracious
Our task is treble: to pray, bear, and do),
Hear this prayer, Lord: O Lord, deliver us
From trusting in those prayers, though poured out thus.
XV
From being anxious or secure,
Dead clods of sadness or light squibs of mirth,
From thinking that great courts immure
[130] All or no happiness, or that this earth
Is only for our prison framed,
Or that Thou art covetous
To them whom Thou lovest, or that they are maimed
From reaching this world’s sweet, who seek Thee thus
With all their might, good Lord, deliver us.
XVI
From needing danger to be good,
From owing Thee yesterday’s tears today,
From trusting so much to Thy blood
That in that hope we wound our soul away,
[140] From bribing Thee with alms to excuse
Some sin more burdenous,
From light affecting in religion, news,
From thinking us all soul, neglecting thus
Our mutual duties, Lord, deliver us.
XVII
From tempting Satan to tempt us
By our connivance or slack company,
From measuring ill by vicious,
Neglecting to choke sin’s spawn, vanity,
From indiscreet humility,
[150] Which might be scandalous
And cast reproach on Christianity,
From being spies, or to spies pervious,
From thirst or scorn of fame, deliver us.
XVIII
Deliver us through Thy descent
Into the virgin, whose womb was a place
Of middle kind; and Thou being sent
To’ungracious us, stayed’st at her full of grace,
And through Thy poor birth, where first Thou
Glorified’st poverty,
[160] And yet soon after riches didst allow,
By accepting kings’ gifts in the Epiphany,
Deliver and make us to both ways free.
And through that bitter agony,
Which is still the agony of pious wits,
Disputing what distorted Thee
And interrupted evenness with fits,
And through Thy free confession
Though thereby they were then
Made blind, so that Thou might’st from them have gone,
[170] Good Lord, deliver us, and teach us when
We may not, and we may blind unjust men.
XX
Through Thy submitting all, to blows
Thy face, Thy clothes to spoil, Thy fame to scorn,
All ways which rage or justice knows,
And by which Thou could’st show, that Thou wast born,
And through Thy gallant humbleness
Which Thou in death didst show,
Dying before Thy soul they could express,
Deliver us from death, by dying so
[180] To this world, ere this world do bid us go.
XXI
When senses, which Thy soldiers are,
We arm against Thee, and they fight for sin,
When want, sent but to tame, doth war
And work despair a breach to enter in,
When plenty, God’s image and seal,
Makes us idolatrous,
And love it, not Him, whom it should reveal,
When we are moved to seem religious
Only to vent wit, Lord deliver us.
XXII
[190] In churches, when the’infirmity
Of him which speaks diminishes the word,
When magistrates do misapply
To us, as we judge, lay or ghostly sword,
When plague, which is Thine angel, reigns,
Or wars, Thy champions, sway,
When heresy, Thy second deluge, gains;
In th’hour of death, the’eve of last judgement day,
Deliver us from the sinister way.
XXIII
Hear us, O hear us, Lord; to Thee
[200] A sinner is more music when he prays
Than spheres or angels praises be
In panegyric halleluiahs.
Hear us, for till Thou hear us, Lord,
We know not what to say.
Thine ear to’our sighs, tears, thoughts gives voice and word.
O Thou, who Satan heard’st in Job’s sick day,
Hear Thyself now, for Thou in us dost pray.
XXIV
That we may change to evenness
This intermitting aguish piety,
[210] That snatching cramps of wickedness
And apoplexies of fast sin may die,
That music of Thy promises,
Not threats in thunder may
Awaken us to our just offices,
What in Thy book Thou dost, or creatures say,
That we may hear, Lord, hear us, when we pray.
XXV
That our ears’ sickness we may cure,
And rectify those labyrinths aright,
That we, by hark’ning, not procure
[220] Our praise, nor others’ dispraise so invite,
That we get not a slipperiness
And senselessly decline
From hearing bold wits jest at kings’ excess,
To’admit the like of majesty divine,
That we may lock our ears, Lord, open Thine.
XXVI
That living law, the magistrate,
Which to give us and make us physic, doth
Our vices often aggravate,
That preachers taxing sin before her growth,
[230] That Satan and envenomed men,
Which will, if we starve, dine
When they do most accuse us, may see then
Us, to amendment, hear them; Thee decline;
That we may open our ears, Lord, lock Thine.
XXVII
That learning, Thine ambassador,
From Thine allegiance we never tempt,
That beauty, paradise’s flower
For physic made, from poison be exempt,
That wit, borne apt, high good to do
[240] By dwelling lazily
On nature’s nothing, be not nothing too,
That our affections kill us not nor die,
Hear us, weak echoes, O Thou ear, and cry.
XXVIII
Son of God, hear us, and since Thou,
By taking our blood, owest it us again,
Gain to Thyself or us allow,
And let not both us and Thyself be slain.
O lamb of God, which took’st our sin
Which could not stick to Thee,
[250] O let it not return to us again,
But patient and physician being free,
As sin is nothing, let it nowhere be.
Let man’s soul be a sphere, and then, in this,
The’intelligence that moves, devotion is,
And as the other spheres, by being grown
Subject to foreign motions, lose their own,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a year their natural form obey,
Pleasure or business, so, our souls admit
For their first mover, and are whirled by it.
Hence is’t that I am carried towards the West
[10] This day, when my soul’s form bends towards the East.
There I should see a sun, by rising, set,
And by that setting endless day beget;
But that Christ on this cross did rise and fall,
Sin had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I’almost be glad I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for me.
Who sees God’s face, that is self-life, must die;
What a death were it then to see God die?
It made His own lieutenant, Nature, shrink,
[20] It made His footstool crack, and the sun wink.
Could I behold those hands which span the poles,
And turn all spheres at once, pierced with those holes?
Could I behold that endless height which is
Zenith to us, and our antipodes,
Humbled below us? or that blood which is
The seat of all our souls, if not of His,
Made dirt of dust, or that flesh which was worn
By God for His apparel, ragged and torn?
If on these things I durst not look, durst I
[30] Upon His miserable mother cast mine eye,
Who was God’s partner here, and furnished thus
Half of that sacrifice which ransomed us?
Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,
They’are present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them; and Thou look’st towards me,
O Saviour, as Thou hang’st upon the tree;
I turn my back to Thee but to receive
Corrections, till Thy mercies bid Thee leave.
O think me worth Thine anger, punish me,
[40] Burn off my rusts and my deformity,
Restore Thine image, so much, by Thy grace,
That Thou may’st know me, and I’ll turn my face.
CHAP. I.
1 How sits this city, late most populous,
Thus solitary, and like a widow thus?
Amplest of nations, queen of provinces
She was, who now thus tributary is?
2 Still in the night she weeps, and her tears fall
Down by her cheeks along, and none of all
Her lovers comfort her. Perfidiously
Her friends have dealt, and now are enemy.
3 Unto great bondage and afflictions
[10] Judah is captive led. Those nations
With whom she dwells, no place of rest afford,
In straits she meets her persecutor’s sword.
4 Empty are the gates of Zion, and her ways
Mourn, because none come to her solemn days.
Her priests do groan, her maids are comfortless,
And she’s unto herself a bitterness.
5 Her foes are grown her head, and live at peace,
Because when her transgressions did increase,
The Lord struck her with sadness. Th’enemy
[20] Doth drive her children to captivity.
6 From Zion’s daughter is all beauty gone,
Like harts which seek for pasture, and find none
Her princes are. And now before the foe
Which still pursues them, without strength they go.
7 Now in their days of tears, Jerusalem
(Her men slain by the foe, none succouring them)
Remembers what of old she esteemed most,
Whiles her foes laugh at her, for what she hath lost.
8 Jerusalem hath sinned, therefore is she
[30] Removed, as women in uncleanness be.
Who honoured, scorn her, for her foulness they
Have seen; herself doth groan, and turn away.
9 Her foulness in her skirts was seen, yet she
Remembered not her end. Miraculously
Therefore she fell, none comforting. Behold,
O Lord, my affliction, for the foe grows bold.
10 Upon all things where her delight hath been,
The foe hath stretched his hand, for she hath seen
Heathen, whom Thou command’st should not do so,
[40] Into her holy sanctuary go.
11 And all her people groan and seek for bread;
And they have given, only to be fed
All precious things, wherein their pleasure lay;
How cheap I’am grown, O Lord, behold and weigh.
12 All this concerns not you, who pass by me.
O see, and mark if any sorrow be
Like to my sorrow, which Jehovah hath
Done to me in the day of His fierce wrath?
13 That fire, which by Himself is governed,
[50] He hath cast from heaven on my bones and spread
A net before my feet, and me o’erthrown,
And made me languish all the day alone.
14 His hand hath of my sins framed a yoke,
Which wreathed and cast upon my neck, hath broke
My strength. The Lord unto those enemies
Hath given me, from whence I cannot rise.
15 He underfoot hath trodden in my sight
My strong men; He did company invite
To break my young men. He the winepress hath
[60] Trod upon Judah’s daughter in His wrath.
16 For these things do I weep; mine eye, mine eye
Casts water out, for He, which should be nigh
To comfort me, is now departed far.
The foe prevails, forlorn my children are.
17 There’s none, though Zion do stretch out her hand
To comfort her; it is the Lord’s command
That Jacob’s foes girt him. Jerusalem
Is as an unclean woman amongst them.
18 But yet the Lord is just and righteous still,
[70] I have rebelled against His holy will.
O hear all people, and my sorrow see,
My maids, my young men in captivity.
19 I called for my lovers then, but they
Deceived me, and my priests and elders lay
Dead in the city, for they sought for meat
Which should refresh their souls, they could not get.
20 Because I am in straits, Jehovah see
My heart o’erturned, my bowels muddy be.
Because I have rebelled so much, as fast
[80] The sword without, as death within, doth waste.
21 Of all which hear I mourn, none comforts me,
My foes have heard my grief, and glad they be
That Thou hast done it. But Thy promised day
Will come, when, as I suffer, so shall they.
22 Let all their wickedness appear to Thee,
Do unto them, as Thou hast done to me
For all my sins. The sighs which I have had
Are very many, and my heart is sad.
CHAP. II.
1 How over Zion’s daughter hath God hung
[90] His wrath’s thick cloud? And from heaven hath flung
To earth the beauty of Israel, and hath
Forgot His footstool in the day of wrath?
2 The Lord unsparingly hath swallowed
All Jacob’s dwellings, and demolished
To ground the strengths of Judah, and profaned
The princes of the kingdom, and the land.
3 In heat of wrath, the horn of Israel He
Hath clean cut off, and lest the enemy
Be hindered, His right hand he doth retire,
[100] But is towards Jacob, all-devouring fire.
4 Like to an enemy He bent His bow,
His right hand was in posture of a foe,
To kill what Zion’s daughter did desire,
’Gainst whom His wrath He poured forth like fire.
5 For like an enemy Jehovah is,
Devouring Israel and His palaces,
Destroying holds, giving additions
To Judah’s daughters’ lamentations.
6 Like to a garden hedge, He hath cast down
[110] The place where was His congregation,
And Zion’s feasts and sabbaths are forgot;
Her king, her priest, His wrath regardeth not.
7 The Lord forsakes His altar, and detests
His sanctuary, and in the foes’ hands rests
His palace, and the walls, in which their cries
Are heard, as in the true solemnities.
8 The Lord hath cast a line, so to confound
And level Zion’s walls unto the ground,
He draws not back His hand, which doth o’erturn
[120] The wall and rampart, which together mourn.
9 Their gates are sunk into the ground, and He
Hath broke the bar. Their king and princes be
Amongst the heathen, without law, nor there
Unto their prophets doth the Lord appear.
10 There Zion’s elders on the ground are placed,
And silence keep. Dust on their heads they cast,
In sackcloth have they girt themselves, and low
The virgins towards ground, their heads do throw.
11 My bowels are grown muddy, and mine eyes
[130] Are faint with weeping, and my liver lies
Poured out upon the ground, for misery
That sucking children in the streets do die.
12 When they had cried unto their mothers, Where
Shall we have bread and drink? They fainted there,
And in the street like wounded persons lay
Till ’twixt their mothers’ breasts they went away.
13 Daughter Jerusalem, O, what may be
A witness, or comparison for thee?
Zion, to ease thee, what shall I name like thee?
[140] Thy breach is like the sea, what help can be?
14 For the vain foolish things thy prophets sought,
Thee, thine iniquities they have not taught,
Which might disturn thy bondage: but for thee
False burdens and false causes they would see.
15 The passengers do clap their hands and hiss
And wag their head at thee and say: Is this
That city, which so many men did call
Joy of the earth and perfectest of all?
16 Thy foes do gape upon thee, and they hiss
[150] And gnash their teeth and say: Devour we this,
For this is certainly the day which we
Expected, and which now we find and see.
17 The Lord hath done that which He purposed,
Fulfilled His word of old determined.
He hath thrown down and not spared, and thy foe
Made glad above thee and advanced him so.
18 But now, their hearts against the Lord do call,
Therefore, O walls of Zion, let tears fall
Down like a river, day and night. Take thee
[160] No rest, but let thine eye incessant be.
19 Arise, cry in the night, pour for thy sins,
Thy heart, like water, when the watch begins.
Lift up thy hands to God, lest children die,
Which faint for hunger, in the streets do lie.
20 Behold, O Lord, consider unto whom
Thou hast done this; what, shall the women come
To eat their children of a span? Shall Thy
Prophet and priest be slain in sanctuary?
21 On ground in streets, the young and old do lie,
[170] My virgins and young men by sword do die;
Them in the day of Thy wrath Thou hast slain,
Nothing did Thee from killing them contain.
22 As to a solemn feast, all whom I feared
Thou call’st about me; when His wrath appeared,
None did remain or ’scape, for those which I
Brought up did perish by mine enemy.
CHAP. III.
1 I am the man which have affliction seen,
Under the rod of God’s wrath having been,
2 He hath led me to darkness, not to light,
[180] 3 And against me all day, His hand doth fight.
4 He hath broke my bones, worn out my flesh and skin,
5 Built up against me; and hath girt me in
With hemlock and with labour; 6 and set me
In dark, as they who dead for ever be.
7 He hath hedged me lest I ’scape, and added more
To my steel fetters, heavier than before,
8 When I cry out, He out shuts my prayer, 9 And hath
Stopped with hewn stone my way, and turned my path.
10 And like a lion hid in secrecy,
[190] Or bear which lies in wait, He was to me,
11 He stops my way, tears me, made desolate,
12 And He makes me the mark He shooteth at.
13 He made the children of His quiver pass
Into my reins. 14 I with my people, was
All the day long a song and mockery.
15 He hath filled me with bitterness, and He
Hath made me drunk with wormwood. 16 He hath burst
My teeth with stones, and covered me with dust.
17 And thus my soul far off from peace was set,
[200] And my prosperity I did forget.
18 My strength, my hope (unto myself I said)
Which from the Lord should come, is perished.
19 But when my mournings I do think upon,
My wormwood, hemlock, and affliction,
20 My soul is humbled in remem’bring this.
21 My heart considers, therefore, hope there is.
22 ’Tis God’s great mercy we’are not utterly
Consumed, for His compassions do not die;
23 For every morning they renewed be,
[210] For great, O Lord, is Thy fidelity.
24 The Lord is, saith my soul, my portion,
And therefore in Him will I hope alone.
25 The Lord is good to them who on Him rely,
And to the soul that seeks Him earnestly.
26 It is both good to trust, and to attend
(The Lord’s salvation) unto the end.
27 ’Tis good for one his yoke in youth to bear;
28 He sits alone, and doth all speech forbear,
Because he hath borne it. 29 And his mouth he lays
[220] Deep in the dust, yet then in hope he stays.
30 He gives his cheeks to whosoever will
Strike him, and so he is reproached still.
31 For not forever doth the Lord forsake,
32 But when He’hath struck with sadness, He doth take
Compassion, as His mercy’is infinite;
33 Nor is it with His heart, that He doth smite,
34 That underfoot the prisoners stamped be,
35 That a man’s right the judge himself doth see
To be wrung from him. 36 That he subverted is
[230] In his just cause; the Lord allows not this.
37 Who then will say, that aught doth come to pass,
But that which by the Lord commanded was?
38 Both good and evil from his mouth proceeds.
39 Why then grieves any man for his misdeeds?
40 Turn we to God, by trying out our ways;
41 To Him in heaven, our hands with hearts upraise.
42 We have rebelled and fallen away from Thee,
Thou pardon’st not. 43 Usest no clemency;
Pursuest us, kill’st us, coverest us with wrath,
[240] 44 Cover’st Thyself with clouds, that our prayer hath
No power to pass. 45 And Thou hast made us fall
As refuse, and off-scouring to them all.
46 All our foes gape at us. 47 Fear and a snare
With ruin, and with waste, upon us are.
48 With water-rivers doth mine eye o’erflow
For ruin of my people’s daughters so;
49 Mine eye doth drop down tears incessantly,
50 Until the Lord look down from heaven to see.
51 And for my city daughters’ sake, mine eye
[250] Doth break mine heart. 52 Causeless mine enemy,
Like a bird chased me. 53 In a dungeon
They have shut my life, and cast me on a stone.
54 Waters flowed o’er my head, then thought I, I am
Destroyed. 55 I called, Lord, upon Thy name
Out of the pit. 56 And Thou my voice did’st hear;
O, from my sigh and cry, stop not Thine ear.
57 Then when I called upon Thee, Thou drew’st near
Unto me, and said’st unto me, Do not fear.
58 Thou, Lord, my soul’s cause handled hast, and Thou
[260] Rescu’est my life. 59 O Lord, do Thou judge now,
Thou heard’st my wrong. 60 Their vengeance all they have wrought;
61 How they reproached, Thou hast heard, and what they thought,
62 What their lips uttered, which against me rose,
And what was ever whispered by my foes.
63 I am their song, whether they rise or sit,
64 Give them rewards, Lord, for their working fit
65 Sorrow of heart, Thy curse. 66 And with Thy might
Follow, and from under heaven destroy them quite.
CHAP. IV.
1 How is the gold become so dim? How is
[270] Purest and finest gold thus changed to this?
The stones, which were stones of the sanctuary,
Scattered in corners of each street do lie.
2 The precious sons of Zion, which should be
Valued at purest gold, how do we see
Low rated now, as earthen pitchers, stand,
Which are the work of a poor potter’s hand.
3 Even the sea-calves draw their breasts and give
Suck to their young; my people’s daughters live
By reason of the foe’s great cruelness,
[280] As do the owls in the vast wilderness.
4 And when the sucking child doth strive to draw,
His tongue for thirst cleaves to his upper jaw.
And when for bread the little children cry,
There is no man that doth them satisfy.
5 They which before were delicately fed,
Now in the streets forlorn have perished,
And they, which ever were in scarlet clothed,
Sit and embrace the dunghills, which they loathed.
6 The daughters of my people have sinned more,
[290] Than did the town of Sodom sin before;
Which being at once destroyed, there did remain
No hands amongst them to vex them again.
7 But heretofore purer her Nazarite
Was than the snow, and milk was not so white
As carbuncles did their pure bodies shine,
And all their polish’dness was saphirine.
8 They are darker now than blackness, none can know
Them by the face, as through the street they go,
For now their skin doth cleave unto their bone,
[300] And withered is like to dry wood grown.
9 Better by sword than famine ’tis to die;
And better through pierced than by penury,
10 Women, by nature pitiful, have eat
Their children, dressed with their own hand for meat.
11 Jehovah here fully accomplished hath
His indignation and poured forth his wrath,
Kindled a fire in Zion, which hath power
To eat, and her foundations to devour.
12 Nor would the kings of the earth, nor all which live
[310] In the inhabitable world believe,
That any adversary, any foe,
Into Jerusalem should enter so.
13 For the priests’ sins, and prophets which have shed
Blood in the streets, and the just murdered,
14 Which when those men, whom they made blind, did stray
Through the streets, defiled by the way
With blood, the which impossible it was
Their garments should ’scape touching, as they pass,
15 Would cry aloud, Depart defiled men,
[320] Depart, depart, and touch us not, and then
They fled, and strayed, and with the gentiles were,
Yet told their friends, they should not long dwell there.
16 For this they are scattered by Jehovah’s face
Who never will regard them more. No grace
Unto their old men shall the foe afford,
Nor, that they are priests, redeem them from the sword.
17 And we as yet, for all these miseries
Desiring our vain help, consume our eyes;
And such a nation as cannot save,
[330] We in desire and speculation have.
18 They hunt our steps, that in the streets we fear
To go; our end is now approached near,
Our days accomplished are, this the last day,
Eagles of heaven are not so swift as they
19 Which follow us, o’er mountain tops they fly
At us, and for us in the desert lie.
20 The anointed Lord, breath of our nostrils, he
Of whom we said, under his shadow, we
Shall with more ease under the heathen dwell,
[340] Into the pit, which these men digged, fell.
21 Rejoice, O Edom’s daughter, joyful be
Thou which inhabit’st Uz, for unto thee
This cup shall pass, and thou with drunkenness
Shalt fill thyself, and show thy nakedness.
22 And then thy sins, O Zion, shall be spent,
The Lord will not leave thee in banishment.
Thy sins, O Edom’s daughter, He will see,
And for them, pay thee with captivity.
CHAP. V.
1 Remember, O Lord, what is fallen on us.
[350] See, and mark how we are reproached thus,
2 For unto strangers our possession
Is turned, our houses unto aliens gone,
3 Our mothers are become as widows, we
As orphans all, and without fathers be.
4 Waters which are our own we drink and pay,
And upon our own wood a price they lay.
5 Our persecutors on our necks do sit,
They make us travail, and not intermit;
6 We stretch our hands unto th’Egyptians
[360] To get us bread, and to the Assyrians.
7 Our fathers did these sins, and are no more,
But we do bear the sins they did before.
8 They are but servants, which do rule us thus,
Yet from their hands none would deliver us.
9 With danger of our life our bread we got;
For in the wilderness, the sword did wait.
10 The tempests of this famine we lived in,
Black as an oven coloured had our skin.
11 In Judah’s cities they the maids abused
[370] By force, and so women in Zion used.
12 The princes with their hands they hung; no grace
Nor honour gave they to the elder’s face.
13 Unto the mill our young men carried are,
And children fell under the wood they bare.
14 Elders, the gates, youth did their songs forbear,
Gone was our joy; our dancings, mournings were.
15 Now is the crown fall’n from our head; and woe
Be unto us, because we have sinned so.
16 For this our hearts do languish, and for this
[380] Over our eyes a cloudy dimness is.
17 Because Mount Zion desolate doth lie,
And foxes there do go at liberty;
18 But Thou, O Lord, art ever, and Thy throne
From generation, to generation.
19 Why should’st Thou forget us eternally?
Or leave us thus long in this misery?
20 Restore us, Lord, to Thee, that so we may
Return, and as of old, renew our day.
21 For oughtest Thou, O Lord, despise us thus
[390] 22 And to be utterly enraged at us?
God grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine,
Thou who dost, best friend, in best things outshine;
May thy soul, ever cheerful, ne’er know cares,
Nor thy life, ever lively, know grey hairs.
Nor thy hand, ever open, know base holds,
Nor thy purse, ever plump, know pleats or folds.
Nor thy tongue, ever true, know a false thing,
Nor thy word, ever mild, know quarrelling.
Nor thy works, ever equal, know disguise,
[10] Nor thy fame, ever pure, know contumelies.
Nor thy prayers know low objects, still divine,
God grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine.
Eternal God (for whom whoever dare
Seek new expressions, do the circle square,
And thrust into straight corners of poor wit
Thee, who art cornerless and infinite),
I would but bless Thy name, not name Thee now;
(And Thy gifts are as infinite as Thou)
Fix we our praises therefore on this one,
That as Thy blessèd spirit fell upon
These Psalms’ first author in a cloven tongue
[10] (For ’twas a double power by which he sung
The highest matter in the noblest form),
So Thou hast cleft that spirit to perform
That work again, and shed it here upon
Two, by their bloods and by Thy spirit one;
A brother and a sister, made by Thee
The organ where Thou art the harmony.
Two that make one John Baptist’s holy voice,
And who that Psalm, Now let the Isles rejoice,
Have both translated and applied it too,
[20] Both told us what and taught us how to do.
They show us islanders our joy, our King;
They tell us why, and teach us how to sing;
Make all this all, three choirs, heaven, earth, and spheres;
The first, heaven, hath a song, but no man hears;
The spheres have music, but they have no tongue,
Their harmony is rather danced than sung;
But our third choir, to which the first gives ear
(For angels learn by what the Church does here),
This choir hath all. The organist is he
[30] Who hath tuned God and man, the organ we;
The songs are these, which heaven’s high holy muse
Whispered to David, David to the Jews;
And David’s successors in holy zeal,
In forms of joy and art do re-reveal
To us so sweetly and sincerely too
That I must not rejoice as I would do
When I behold that these Psalms are become
So well attired abroad, so ill at home,
So well in chambers, in Thy Church so ill
[40] As I can scarce call that reformed until
This be reformed; would a whole state present
A lesser gift than some one man hath sent?
And shall our Church, unto our Spouse and King
More hoarse, more harsh than any other, sing?
For that we pray, we praise Thy name for this,
Which, by this Moses and this Miriam, is
Already done; and as those Psalms we call
(Though some have other authors) David’s all,
So though some have, some may some Psalms translate,
[50] We Thy Sidneyan Psalms shall celebrate,
And, till we come the extemporal song to sing
(Learned the first hour that we see the King,
Who hath translated these translators) may
These, their sweet learnèd labours, all the way
Be as our tuning, that when hence we part,
We may fall in with them and sing our part.
Thou, whose diviner soul hath caused thee now
To put thy hand unto the holy plough,
Making lay-scornings of the ministry
Not an impediment, but victory,
What bringst thou home with thee? How is thy mind
Affected since the vintage? Dost thou find
New thoughts and stirrings in thee? And as steel
Touched with a lodestone, dost new motions feel?
Or, as a ship after much pain and care,
[10] For iron and cloth brings home rich Indian ware,
Hast thou thus traffic’d, but with far more gain
Of noble goods and with less time and pain?
Thou art the same materials as before,
Only the stamp is changed, but no more.
And as new crowned kings alter the face
But not the money’s substance, so hath grace
Changed only God’s old image by creation
To Christ’s new stamp, at this thy coronation;
Or, as we paint angels with wings because
[20] They bear God’s message and proclaim His laws,
Since thou must do the like and so must move,
Art thou new feathered with celestial love?
Dear, tell me where thy purchase lies, and show
What thy advantage is above, below.
But if thy gainings do surmount expression,
Why doth the foolish world scorn that profession
Whose joys pass speech? Why do they think unfit
That gentry should join families with it,
As if their day were only to be spent
[30] In dressing, mistressing, and compliment?
Alas, poor joys, but poorer men, whose trust
Seems richly placed in sublimed dust
(For, such are clothes and beauties, which though gay,
Are, at the best, but of sublimèd clay),
Let then the world thy calling disrespect,
But go thou on and pity their neglect.
What function is so noble as to be
Ambassador to God and destiny,
To open life, to give kingdoms to more
[40] Than kings give dignities, to keep heaven’s door?
Mary’s prerogative was to bear Christ, so
’Tis preachers’ to convey Him, for they do
As angels out of clouds, from pulpits speak
And bless the poor beneath, the lame, the weak.
If then th’astronomers, whereas they spy
A new-found star, their optics magnify,
How brave are those who with their engines, can
Bring man to heaven, and heaven again to man?
These are thy titles and pre-eminences,
[50] In whom must meet God’s graces, men’s offences,
And so the heavens, which beget all things here,
And the’earth our mother, which these things doth bear,
Both these in thee are in thy calling knit,
And make thee now a blest hermaphrodite.
In what torn ship soever I embark,
That ship shall be my emblem of Thy ark;
What sea soever swallow me, that flood
Shall be to me an emblem of Thy blood;
Though Thou with clouds of anger do disguise
Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes,
Which, though they turn away sometimes,
They never will despise.
I sacrifice this island unto Thee,
[10] And all whom I loved there, and who loved me;
When I have put our seas ’twixt them and me,
Put Thou Thy sea betwixt my sins and Thee.
As the tree’s sap doth seek the root below
In winter, in my winter now I go
Where none but Thee, th’eternal root
Of true love I may know.
Nor Thou nor Thy religion dost control
The amorousness of an harmonious soul,
But Thou would’st have that love Thyself: as Thou
[20] Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now;
Thou lov’st not, till from loving more, Thou free
My soul: whoever gives, takes liberty:
O, if Thou car’st not whom I love,
Alas, Thou lov’st not me.
Seal then this bill of my divorce to all
On whom those fainter beams of love did fall;
Marry those loves, which in youth scattered be
On fame, wit, hopes (false mistresses), to Thee.
Churches are best for prayer that have least light:
[30] To see God only, I go out of sight,
And to ’scape stormy days, I choose
An everlasting night.
Since I am coming to that holy room
Where, with Thy choir of saints for evermore,
I shall be made Thy music, as I come
I tune the instrument here at the door,
And what I must do then, think here before.
Whil’st my physicians by their love are grown
Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie
Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
That this is my South-west discovery
[10] Per fretum febris, by these straits to die,
I joy, that in these straits I see my West;
For, though their currents yield return to none,
What shall my West hurt me? As West and East
In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,
So death doth touch the resurrection.
Is the Pacific Sea my home? Or are
The Eastern riches? Is Jerusalem?
Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar,
All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,
[20] Whether where Japhet dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.
We think that paradise and calvary,
Christ’s cross, and Adam’s tree, stood in one place;
Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me;
As the first Adam’s sweat surrounds my face,
May the last Adam’s blood my soul embrace.
So, in His purple wrapped receive me Lord,
By these His thorns, give me, His other crown;
And as to others’ souls I preached Thy word,
Be this my text, my sermon to mine own,
[30] Therefore that He may raise the Lord throws down.
I
Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.
II
Wilt Thou forgive that sin by which I won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun
[10] A year or two, but wallowed in a score?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.
III
I have a sin of fear, that when I’ve spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
Swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy sun
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
And, having done that, Thou hast done,
I have no more.
Qui prius assuetus Serpentum fasce Tabellas
Signare, (haec nostrae symbola parva Domus)
Adscitus domui Domini, patrióque relicto
Stemmate, nanciscor stemmata jure nova.
Hinc mihi Crux primo quae fronte impressa lavacro,
Finibus extensis, anchora facta patet.
Anchorae in effigiem, Crux tandem desinit ipsam,
Anchora fit tandem Crux tolerata diu.
Hoc tamen ut fiat, Christo vegetatur ab ipso
[10] Crux, et ab Affixo, est Anchora facta, Iesu.
Nec Natalitiis penitus serpentibus orbor,
Non ita dat Deus, ut auferat ante data.
Quâ sapiens, Dos est; Quâ terram lambit et ambit,
Pestis; At in nostra fit Medicina Cruce,
Serpens; fixa Cruci si sit Natura; Crucíque
A fixo, nobis, Gratia tota fluat.
Omnia cum Crux sint, Crux Anchora fixa, sigillum
Non tam dicendum hoc, quam Catechismus erit.
Mitto, nec exigua, exiguâ sub imagine, dona,
[20] Pignora amicitiae, et munera; Vota, preces.
Plura tibi accumulet, sanctus cognominis, Ille
Regia qui flavo Dona sigillat Equo.
A sheaf of snakes used heretofore to be
My seal, the crest of our poor family.
Adopted in God’s family, and so
Our old coat lost, unto new arms I go.
The cross (my seal at baptism) spread below,
Does, by that form, into an anchor grow.
Crosses grow anchors; bear, as thou should’st do
Thy cross, and that cross grows an anchor too.
But He, that makes our crosses anchors thus,
[10] Is Christ, who there is crucified for us.
Yet may I, with this, my first serpents hold,
God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old;
The Serpent may, as wise, my pattern be;
My poison, as he feeds on dust, that’s me.
And as he rounds the earth to murder sure,
My death he is, but on the cross, my cure.
Crucify nature then, and then implore
All grace from Him, crucified there before;
When all is cross, and that cross anchor grown,
[20] This seal’s a catechism, not a seal alone.
Under that little seal great gifts I send,
Works, and prayers, pawns, and fruits of a friend.
And may that saint which rides in our great seal,
To you, who bear his name, great bounties deal.