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HIS NOBLE NUMBERS: OR, HIS PIOUS PIECES, VVherein (amongſt other things) he ſings the Birth of his CHRIST: and ſighes for his Saviours ſuffe­ring on the Croſſe.

〈…〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
〈…〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

LONDON. Printed for John Williams, and Francis Eglesfield. 1647.


HIS Noble Numbers: OR, His pious Pieces.

His Confeſsion.

LOok how our foule Dayes do exceed our faire;
And as our bad, more then our good Works are:
Ev'n ſo thoſe Lines, pen'd by my wanton Wit,
Treble the number of theſe good I've writ.
Things precious are leaſt num'rous: Men are prone
To do ten Bad, for one Good Action.

His Prayer for Abſolution.

FOr Thoſe my unbaptized Rhimes,
Writ in my wild unhallowed Times;
For every ſentence, clauſe and word,
That's not inlaid with Thee, (my Lord)
Forgive me God, and blot each Line
Out of my Book, that is not Thine.
But if, 'mongſt all, thou find'ſt here one
Worthy thy Benediction;
That One of all the reſt, ſhall be
The Glory of my Work, and Me,

To finde God.

WEigh me the Fire; or, canſt thou find
A way to meaſure out the Wind;
Diſtinguiſh all thoſe Floods that are
Mixt in that watrie Theater;
And taſt thou them as ſaltleſſe there,
As in their Channell firſt they were.
Tell me the People that do keep
Within the Kingdomes of the Deep;
Or fetch me back that Cloud againe,
Beſhiver'd into ſeeds of Raine;
Tell me the motes, duſt, ſands, and ſpeares
Of Corn, when Summer ſhakes his eares;
Shew me that world of Starres, and whence
They noiſeleſſe ſpill their Influence:
This if thou canſt; then ſhew me Him
That rides the glorious Cherubim.

What God is.

GOD is above the ſphere of our eſteem,
And is the beſt known, not defining Him.

Upon God.

GOD is not onely ſaid to be
An Ens, but Supraentitie.

Mercy and Love.

GOD hath two wings, which He doth ever move,
The one is Mercy, and the next is Love:
Under the firſt the Sinners ever truſt;
And with the laſt he ſtill directs the Juſt.

Gods Anger without Affection.

GOD when He's angry here with any one,
His wrath is free from perturbation;
And when we think His looks are ſowre and grim
The alteration is in us, not Him.

God not to be comprehended.

'TIs hard to finde God, but to comprehend
Him, as He is, is labour without end.

Gods part.

PRayers and Praiſes are thoſe ſpotleſſe two
Lambs, by the Law, which God requires as due.


GOD n'ere afflicts us more then our deſert,
Though He may ſeem to over-act His part:
Somtimes He ſtrikes us more then fleſh can beare;
But yet ſtill leſſe then Grace can ſuffer here.

Three fatall Siſters.

THree fatall Siſters wait upon each ſin;
Firſt, Fear and Shame without, then Guilt within.


SUffer thy legs, but not thy tongue to walk:
God, the moſt Wiſe, is ſparing of His talk.


TRue mirth reſides not in the ſmiling skin:
The ſweeteſt ſolace is to act no ſin.

Loading and unloading.

GOD loads, and unloads, (thus His work begins)
To load with bleſſings, and unload from ſins.

Gods Mercy.

GODS boundleſſe mercy is (to ſinfull man)
Like to the ever-wealthy Ocean:
Which though it ſends forth thouſand ſtreams, 'tis ne're
Known, or els ſeen to be the emptier:
And though it takes all in, 'tis yet no more
Full, and fild-full, then when full-fild before.

Prayers muſt have Poiſe.

GOD He rejects all Prayers that are ſleight,
And want their Poiſe: words ought to have their weight.

To God: an Anthem, ſung in the Chappell at White-Hall, before the King.

MY God, I'm wounded by my ſin,
And ſore without, and ſick within:
Ver. Chor.
I come to Thee, in hope to find
Salve for my body, and my mind.
In Gilead though no Balme be found,
To eaſe this ſmart, or cure this wound;
5Ver. Chor.
Yet, Lord, I know there is with Thee
All ſaving health, and help for me.
Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,
That powres in oyle, as well as wine.
Ver. Chor.
And let it work, for I'le endure
The utmoſt ſmart, ſo Thou wilt cure.

Upon God.

GOD is all fore-part; for, we never ſee
Any part backward in the Deitie.

Calling, and correcting.

GOD is not onely mercifull, to call
Men to repent, but when He ſtrikes withall.

No eſcaping the ſcourging.

GOD ſcourgeth ſome ſeverely, ſome He ſpares;
But all in ſmart have leſſe, or greater ſhares.

The Rod.

GOds Rod doth watch while men do ſleep; & then
The Rod doth ſleep, while vigilant are men.

God has a twofold part.

GOD when for ſin He makes His Children ſmart,
His own He acts not, but anothers part:
But when by ſtripes He ſaves them, then 'tis known,
He comes to play the part that is His own.

God is One.

GOD, as He is moſt Holy knowne;
So He is ſaid to be moſt One.

Perſecutions profitable.

AFflictions they moſt profitable are
To the beholder, and the ſufferer:
Bettering them both, but by a double ſtraine,
The firſt by patience, and the laſt by paine.

To God.

DO with me, God! as Thou didſt deal with Iohn,
(Who writ that heavenly Revelation)
Let me (like him) firſt cracks of thunder heare;
Then let the Harps inchantments ſtrike mine eare;
Here give me thornes; there, in thy Kingdome, ſet
Upon my head the golden coronet;
There give me day; but here my dreadfull night:
My ſackcloth here; but there my Stole of white.


GOD has his whips here to a twofold end,
The bad to puniſh, and the good t'amend.

Gods Providence.

IF all tranſgreſſions here ſhould have their pay,
What need there then be of a reckning day:
IF God ſhould puniſh no ſin, here, of men,
His Providence who would not queſtion then?


THoſe Saints, which God loves beſt,
The Devill tempts not leaſt.

His Ejaculation to God.

MY God! looke on me with thine eye
Of pittie, not of ſcrutinie;
For if thou doſt, thou then ſhalt ſee
Nothing but loathſome ſores in mee.
O then! for mercies ſake, behold
Theſe my irruptions manifold;
And heale me with thy looke, or touch:
But if thou wilt not deigne ſo much,
Becauſe I'me odious in thy ſight,
Speak but the word, and cure me quite.

Gods gifts not ſoone granted.

GOD heares us when we pray, but yet defers
His gifts, to exerciſe Petitioners:
And though a while He makes Requeſters ſtay,
With Princely hand He'l recompence delay.

Perſecutions purifie.

GOD ſtrikes His Church, but 'tis to this intent,
To make, not marre her, by this puniſhment:
So where He gives the bitter Pills, be ſure,
'Tis not to poyſon, but to make thee pure.


GOD pardons thoſe, who do through frailty ſin;
But never thoſe that perſevere therein.

An Ode of the Birth of our Saviour.

IN Numbers, and but theſe few,
I ſing Thy Birth, Oh JESU!
Thou prettie Babie, borne here,
With ſup'rabundant ſcorn here:
Who for Thy Princely Port here,
Hadſt for Thy place
Of Birth, a baſe
Out-ſtable for thy Court here.
Inſtead of neat Incloſures
Of inter-woven Oſiers;
Inſtead of fragrant Poſies
Of Daffadills, and Roſes;
Thy cradle, Kingly Stranger,
As Goſpell tells,
Was nothing els,
But, here, a homely manger.
But we with Silks, (not Cruells)
With ſundry precious Jewells,
And Lilly-work will dreſſe Thee;
And as we diſpoſſeſſe thee
Of clouts, wee'l make a chamber,
Sweet Babe, for Thee,
Of Ivorie,
And plaiſter'd round with Amber.
The Jewes they did diſdaine Thee,
But we will entertaine Thee
With Glories to await here
Upon Thy Princely State here,
And more for love, then pittie.
From yeere to yeere
Wee'l make Thee, here,
A Free-born of our Citie.


IN the old Scripture I have often read,
The calfe without meale n'ere was offered;
To figure to us, nothing more then this,
Without the heart, lip-labour nothing is.

The Heart.

IN Prayer the Lips ne're act the winning part,
Without the ſweet concurrence of the Heart.


WHy wore th' Egyptians Jewells in the Eare?
But for to teach us, all the grace is there,
When we obey, by acting what we heare.

Sin ſeen.

WHen once the ſin has fully acted been,
Then is the horror of the treſpaſſe ſeen.

Upon Time.

TIme was upon
The wing, to flie away;
And I cal'd on
Him but a while to ſtay;
But he'd be gone,
For ought that I could ſay.
He held out then,
A Writing, as he went;
And askt me, when
Falſe man would be content
To pay agen,
What God and Nature lent.
An houre-glaſſe,
In which were ſands but few,
As he did paſſe,
He ſhew'd, and told me too,
Mine end near was,
And ſo away he flew.

His Petition.

IF warre, or want ſhall make me grow ſo poore,
As for to beg my bread from doore to doore;
Lord! let me never act that beggars part,
Who hath thee in his mouth, not in his heart.
He who asks almes in that ſo ſacred Name,
Without due reverence, playes the cheaters game.

To God.

THou haſt promis'd, Lord, to be
With me in my miſerie;
Suffer me to be ſo bold,
As to ſpeak, Lord, ſay and hold.

His Letanie, to the Holy Spirit.

IN the houre of my diſtreſſe,
When temptations me oppreſſe,
And when I my ſins confeſſe,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and ſick in head,
And with doubts diſcomforted,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the houſe doth ſigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in ſleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the artleſſe Doctor fees
No one hope, but of his Fees,
And his skill runs on the lees;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When his Potion and his Pill,
His, or none, or little skill,
Meet for nothing, but to kill;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the paſſing-bell doth tole,
And the Furies in a ſhole
Come to fright a parting ſoule;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the tapers now burne blew,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more then true;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Prieſt his laſt hath praid,
And I nod to what is ſaid,
'Cauſe my ſpeech is now decaid;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When (God knowes) I'm toſt about,
Either with deſpaire, or doubt;
Yet before the glaſſe be out,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Tempter me purſu'th
With the ſins of all my youth,
And halfe damns me with untruth;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the flames and helliſh cries
Fright mine eares, and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me ſurprize;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was ſeal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd;
Sweet Spirit comfort me!


THankſgiving for a former, doth invite
God to beſtow a ſecond benefit.


BEll-man of Night, if I about ſhall go
For to denie my Maſter, do thou crow.
Thou ſtop'ſt S. Peter in the midſt of ſin;
Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin;
Better it is, premoniſh'd, for to ſhun
A ſin, then fall to weeping when 'tis done.

All things run well for the Righteous.

ADverſe and proſperous Fortunes both work on
Here, for the righteous mans ſalvation:
Be he opposd, or be he not withſtood,
All ſerve to th' Augmentation of his good.

Paine ends in Pleaſure.

AFflictions bring us joy in times to come,
When ſins, by ſtripes, to us grow weariſome.

To God.

I'Le come, I'le creep, (though Thou doſt threat
Humbly unto Thy Mercy-ſeat:
When I am there, this then I'le do,
Give Thee a Dart, and Dagger too;
Next, when I have my faults confeſt,
Naked I'le ſhew a ſighing breſt;
Which if that can't Thy pittie wooe,
Then let Thy Juſtice do the reſt,
And ſtrike it through.

A Thankſgiving to God, for his Houſe.

LOrd, Thou haſt given me a cell
Wherein to dwell;
And little houſe, whoſe humble Roof
Is weather-proof;
Under the ſparres of which I lie
Both ſoft, and drie;
Where Thou my chamber for to ward
Haſt ſet a Guard
Of harmleſſe thoughts, to watch and keep
Me, while I ſleep.
Low is my porch, as is my Fate,
Both void of ſtate;
And yet the threſhold of my doore
Is worn by'th poore,
Who thither come, and freely get
Good words, or meat:
Like as my Parlour, ſo my Hall
And Kitchin's ſmall:
A little Butterie, and therein
A little Byn,
Which keeps my little loafe of Bread
Unchipt, unflead:
Some brittle ſticks of Thorne or Briar
Make me a fire,
Cloſe by whoſe living coale I ſit,
And glow like it
Lord, I confeſſe too, when I dine,
The Pulſe is Thine,
And all thoſe other Bits, that bee
There plac'd by Thee;
The Worts, the Purſlain, and the Meſſe
Of Water-creſſe,
Which of Thy kindneſſe Thou haſt ſent;
And my content
Makes thoſe, and my beloved Beet,
To be more ſweet.
'Tis thou that crown'ſt my glittering Hearth
With guiltleſſe mirth;
And giv'ſt me Waſſaile Bowles to drink,
Spic'd to the brink.
Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand,
That ſoiles my land;
And giv'ſt me, for my Buſhell ſowne,
Twice ten for one:
Thou mak'ſt my teeming Hen to lay
Her egg each day:
Beſides my healthfull Ewes to beare
Me twins each yeare:
The while the conduits of my Kine
Run Creame, (for Wine.)
All theſe, and better Thou doſt ſend
Me, to this end,
That I ſhould render, for my part,
A thankfull heart;
Which, fir'd with incenſe, I reſigne,
As wholly Thine;
But the acceptance, that muſt be,
My Chriſt, by Thee.

To God.

MAke, make me Thine, my gracious God,
Or with thy ſtaffe, or with thy rod;
And be the blow too what it will,
Lord, I will kiſſe it, though it kill:
Beat me, bruiſe me, rack me, rend me,
Yet, in torments, I'le commend Thee:
Examine me with fire, and prove me
To the full, yet I will love Thee:
Nor ſhalt thou give ſo deep a wound,
But I as patient will be found.

Another, to God.

LOrd, do not beat me,
Since I do ſob and crie,
And ſwowne away to die,
Ere Thou doſt threat me.
Lord, do not ſcourge me,
If I by lies and oaths
Have ſoil'd my ſelfe, or cloaths,
But rather purge me.

None truly happy here.

HAppy's that man, to whom God gives
A ſtock of Goods, whereby he lives
Neer to the wiſhes of his heart:
No man is bleſt through ev'ry part.

To his ever-loving God.

CAn I not come to Thee, my God, for theſe
So very-many-meeting hindrances,
That ſlack my pace; but yet not make me ſtay?
Who ſlowly goes, rids (in the end) his way.
Cleere Thou my paths, or ſhorten Thou my miles,
Remove the barrs, or lift me o're the ſtiles:
Since rough the way is, help me when I call,
And take me up; or els prevent the fall.
I kenn my home; and it affords ſome eaſe,
To ſee far off the ſmoaking Villages.
Fain would I reſt; yet covet not to die,
For feare of future-biting penurie:
No, no, (my God) Thou know'ſt my wiſhes be
To leave this life, not loving it, but Thee.


THou bidſt me come; I cannot come; for why,
Thou dwel'ſt aloft, and I want wings to flie.
To mount my Soule, ſhe muſt have pineons given;
For, 'tis no eaſie way from Earth to Heaven.

To Death.

THou bidſt me come away,
And I'le no longer ſtay,
Then for to ſhed ſome teares
For faults of former yeares;
And to repent ſome crimes,
Done in the preſent times:
And next, to take a bit
Of Bread, and Wine with it;
To d'on my robes of love,
Fit for the place above;
To gird my loynes about
With charity throughout;
And ſo to travaile hence
With feet of innocence:
Theſe done, I'le onely crie
God mercy; and ſo die.

Neutrality loathſome.

GOD will have all, or none; ſerve Him, or fall
Down before Baal, Bel, or Belial:
Either be hot, or cold: God doth deſpiſe,
Abhorre, and ſpew out all Neutralities.

Welcome what comes.

WHatever comes, let's be content withall:
Among Gods Bleſſings, there is no one ſmall.

To his angrie God.

THrough all the night
Thou doſt me fright.
And hold'ſt mine eyes from ſleeping;
And day, by day,
My Cup can ſay,
My wine is mixt with weeping.
Thou doſt my bread
With aſhes knead,
Each evening and each morrow:
Mine eye and eare
Do ſee, and heare
The coming in of ſorrow.
Thy ſcourge of ſteele,
(Ay me!) I feele,
Upon me beating ever:
While my ſick heart
With diſmall ſmart
Is diſacquainted never.
Long, long, I'm ſure,
This can't endure;
But in ſhort time 'twill pleaſe Thee,
My gentle God,
To burn the rod,
Or ſtrike ſo as to eaſe me.

Patience, or Comforts in Croſſes.

ABundant plagues I late have had,
Yet none of theſe have made me ſad:
For why, my Saviour, with the ſenſe
Of ſuffring gives me patience.


O Yeares! and Age! Farewell:
Behold I go,
Where I do know
Infinitie to dwell.
And theſe mine eyes ſhall ſee
All times, how they
Are loſt i'th' Sea
Of vaſt Eternitie.
Where never Moone ſhall ſway
The Starres; but ſhe,
And Night, ſhall be
Drown'd in one endleſſe Day.

To his Saviour, a Child; a Preſent, by a child.

GO prettie child, and beare this Flower
Unto thy little Saviour;
And tell Him, by that Bud now blown,
He is the Roſe of Sharon known:
When thou haſt ſaid ſo, ſtick it there
Upon his Bibb, or Stomacher:
And tell Him, (for good handſell too)
That thou haſt brought a Whiſtle new,
Made of a clean ſtrait oaten reed,
To charme his cries, (at time of need:)
Tell Him, for Corall, thou haſt none;
But if thou hadſt, He ſho'd have one;
But poore thou art, and knowne to be
Even as monileſſe, as He.
Laſtly, if thou canſt win a kiſſe
From thoſe mellifluous lips of his;
Then never take a ſecond on,
To ſpoile the firſt impreſſion.

The New-yeeres Gift.

LEt others look for Pearle and Gold,
Tiſſues, or Tabbies manifold:
One onely lock of that ſweet Hay
Whereon the bleſſed Babie lay,
Or one poore Swadling-clout, ſhall be
The richeſt New-yeeres Gift to me.

To God.

IF any thing delight me for to print
My Book, 'tis this; that Thou, my God, art in't.

God, and the King.

HOw am I bound to Two! God, who doth give
The mind; the King, the meanes whereby I live.

Gods mirth, Mans mourning.

WHere God is merry, there write down thy fears:
What He with laughter ſpeaks, heare thou with tears.

Honours are hindrances.

GIve me Honours: what are theſe,
But the pleaſing hindrances?
Stiles, and ſtops, and ſtayes, that come
In the way 'twixt me, and home:
Cleer the walk, and then ſhall I
To my heaven leſſe run, then flie.

The Paraſceve, or Preparation.

TO a Love-Feaſt we both invited are:
The figur'd Damask, or pure Diaper,
Over the golden Altar now is ſpread,
With Bread, and Wine, and Veſſells furniſhed;
The ſacred Towell, and the holy Eure
Are ready by, to make the Gueſts all pure:
Let's go (my Alma) yet e're we receive,
Fit, fit it is, we have our Paraſceve.
Who to that ſweet Bread unprepar'd doth come
Better he ſtarv'd, then but to taſt one crumme.

To God.

GOD gives not onely corne, for need,
But likewiſe ſup'rabundant ſeed;
Bread for our ſervice, bread for ſhew;
Meat for our meales, and fragments too:
He gives not poorly, taking ſome
Between the finger, and the thumb;
But, for our glut, and for our ſtore,
Fine flowre preſt down, and running o're.

A will to be working.

ALthough we cannot turne the fervent fit
Of ſin, we muſt ſtrive 'gainſt the ſtreame of it:
And howſoe're we have the conqueſt miſt;
'Tis for our glory, that we did reſiſt.

Chriſts part.

CHRIST, He requires ſtill, whereſoere He comes,
To feed, or lodge, to have the beſt of Roomes:
Give Him the choice; grant Him the nobler part
Of all the Houſe: the beſt of all's the Heart.

Riches and Poverty.

GOD co'd have made all rich, or all men poore;
But why He did not, let me tell wherefore:
Had all been rich, where then had Patience been?
Had all been poore, who had His Bounty ſeen?

Sobriety in Search.

TO ſeek of God more then we well can find,
Argues a ſtrong diſtemper of the mind.


GIve, if thou canſt, an Almes; if not, afford,
Inſtead of that, a ſweet and gentle word:
God crowns our goodneſſe, when He ſees,
On our part, wanting all abilities.

To his Conſcience.

CAn I not ſin, but thou wilt be
My private Protonotarie?
Can I not wooe thee to paſſe by
A ſhort and ſweet iniquity?
I'le caſt a miſt and cloud, upon
My delicate tranſgreſſion,
So utter dark, as that no eye
Shall ſee the hug'd impietie:
Gifts blind the wiſe, and bribes do pleaſe,
And winde all other witneſſes:
And wilt not thou, with gold; be ti'd
To lay thy pen and ink aſide?
That in the mirk and tongueleſſe night,
Wanton I may, and thou not write?
It will not be: And, therefore, now,
For times to come, I'le make this Vow,
From aberrations to live free;
So I'le not feare the Judge, or thee.

To his Saviour.

LORD, I confeſſe, that Thou alone art able
To purifie this my Augean ſtable:
Be the Seas water, and the Land all Sope,
Yet if Thy Bloud not waſh me, there's no hope.

To God.

GOD is all-ſufferance here; here He doth ſhow
No Arrow nockt, onely a ſtringleſſe Bow:
His Arrowes flie; and all his ſtones are hurl'd
Againſt the wicked, in another world.

His Dreame.

I Dreamt, laſt night, Thou didſt transfuſe
Oyle from Thy Jarre, into my creuze;
And powring ſtill, Thy wealthy ſtore,
The veſſell full, did then run ore:
Me thought, I did Thy bounty chide,
To ſee the waſte; but 'twas repli'd
By Thee, Deare God, God gives man ſeed
Oft-times for waſt, as for his need.
Then I co'd ſay, that houſe is bare,
That has not bread, and ſome to ſpare.

Gods Bounty.

GOds Bounty, that ebbs leſſe and leſſe,
As men do wane in thankfulneſſe.

To his ſweet Saviour.

NIght hath no wings, to him that cannot ſleep;
And Time ſeems then, not for to flie, but creep;
Slowly her chariot drives, as if that ſhe
Had broke her wheele, or crackt her axeltree.
Juſt ſo it is with me, who liſt'ning, pray
The winds, to blow the tedious night away;
That I might ſee the cheerfull peeping day.
Sick is my heart; O Saviour! do Thou pleaſe
To make my bed ſoft in my ſickneſſes:
Lighten my candle, ſo that I beneath
Sleep not for ever in the vaults of death:
Let me Thy voice betimes i'th morning heare;
Call, and I'le come; ſay Thou, the when, and where:
Draw me, but firſt, and after Thee I'le run,
And make no one ſtop, till my race be done.

His Creed.

I Do believe, that die I muſt,
And be return'd from out my duſt:
I do believe, that when I riſe,
Chriſt I ſhall ſee, with theſe ſame eyes:
I do believe, that I muſt come,
With others, to the dreadfull Doome:
I do believe, the bad muſt goe
From thence, to everlaſting woe:
I do believe, the good, and I,
Shall live with Him eternally:
I do believe, I ſhall inherit
Heaven, by Chriſts mercies, not my merit:
I do believe, the One in Three,
And Three in perfect Unitie:
Laſtly, that JESUS is a Deed
Of Gift from God: And heres my Creed.


TEmptations hurt not, though they have acceſſe:
Satan o'recomes none, but by willingneſſe.

The Lamp.

WHen a mans Faith is frozen up, as dead;
Then is the Lamp and oyle extinguiſhed.


SOrrowes our portion are: Ere hence we goe,
Croſſes we muſt have; or, hereafter woe.


A Mans tranſgreſſion God do's then remit,
When man he makes a Penitent for it.

The Dirge of Jephthahs Daughter: ſung by the Virgins.

O Thou, the wonder of all dayes!
O Paragon, and Pearle of praiſe!
O Virgin-martyr, ever bleſt
Above the reſt
Of all the Maiden-Traine! We come,
And bring freſh ſtrewings to thy Tombe.
Thus, thus, and thus we compaſſe round
Thy harmleſſe and unhaunted Ground;
And as we ſing thy Dirge, we will
The Daffadill,
And other flowers, lay upon
(The Altar of our love) thy Stone.
Thou wonder of all Maids, li'ſt here,
Of Daughters all, the Deereſt Deere;
The eye of Virgins; nay, the Queen
Of this ſmooth Green,
And all ſweet Meades; from whence we get
The Primroſe, and the Violet.
Too ſoon, too deere did Jephthah buy,
By thy ſad loſſe, our liberty:
His was the Bond and Cov'nant, yet
Thou paid'ſt the debt,
Lamented Maid! he won the day,
But for the conqueſt thou didſt pay.
Thy Father brought with him along
The Olive branch, and Victors Song:
He ſlew the Ammonites, we know,
But to thy woe;
And in the purchaſe of our Peace,
The Cure was worſe then the Diſeaſe.
For which obedient zeale of thine,
We offer here, before thy Shrine,
Our ſighs for Storax, teares for Wine;
And to make fine,
And freſh thy Herſe-cloth, we will, here,
Foure times beſtrew thee ev'ry yeere.
Receive, for this thy praiſe, our teares:
Receive this offering of our Haires:
Receive theſe Chriſtall Vialls fil'd
With teares, diſtil'd
From teeming eyes; to theſe we bring,
Each Maid, her ſilver Filleting,
To guild thy Tombe; beſides, theſe Caules,
Theſe Laces, Ribbands, and theſe Faules,
Theſe Veiles, wherewith we uſe to hide
The Baſhfull Bride,
When we conduct her to her Groome:
All, all we lay upon thy Tombe.
No more, no more, ſince thou art dead,
Shall we ere bring coy Brides to bed;
No more, at yeerly Feſtivalls
We Cowſlip balls,
Or chaines of Columbines ſhall make,
For this, or that occaſions ſake.
No, no; our Maiden-pleaſures be
Wrapt in the winding-ſheet, with thee:
'Tis we are dead, though not i'th grave:
Or, if we have
One ſeed of life left, 'tis to keep
A Lent for thee, to faſt and weep.
Sleep in thy peace, thy bed of Spice;
And make this place all Paradiſe:
May Sweets grow here! & ſmoke from hence,
Fat Frankincenſe:
Let Balme, and Caſſia ſend their ſcent
From out thy Maiden-Monument.
May no Wolfe howle, or Screech-Owle ſtir
A wing about thy Sepulcher!
No boyſterous winds, or ſtormes, come hither,
To ſtarve, or wither
Thy ſoft ſweet Earth! but (like a ſpring)
Love keep it ever flouriſhing.
May all ſhie Maids, at wonted hours,
Come forth, to ſtrew thy Tombe with flow'rs:
May Virgins, when they come to mourn,
Male-Incenſe burn
Upon thine Altar! then return,
And leave thee ſteeping in thy Urn.

To God, on his ſickneſſe.

WHat though my Harp, and Violl be
Both hung upon the Willow-tree?
What though my bed be now my grave,
And for my houſe I darkneſſe have?
What though my healthfull dayes are fled,
And I lie numbred with the dead?
Yet I have hope, by Thy great power,
To ſpring; though now a wither'd flower.

Sins loath'd, and yet lov'd.

SHame checks our firſt attempts; but then 'tis prov'd,
Sins firſt diſlik'd, are after that belov'd.


SIn leads the way, but as it goes, it feels
The following plague ſtill treading on his heels.

Upon God.

GOD when He takes my goods and chattels hence,
Gives me a portion, giving patience:
What is in God is God; if ſo it be,
He patience gives; He gives himſelfe to me.


WHat here we hope for, we ſhall once inherit:
By Faith we all walk here, not by the Spirit.


HUmble we muſt be, if to Heaven we go:
High is the roof there; but the gate is low:
When e're thou ſpeak'ſt, look with a lowly eye:
Grace is increaſed by humility.


OUr preſent Teares here (not our preſent laughter)
Are but the handſells of our joyes hereafter.

Sin and Strife.

AFter true ſorrow for our ſinnes, our ſtrife
Muſt laſt with Satan, to the end of life.

An Ode, or Pſalme, to God.

DEer God,
If thy ſmart Rod
Here did not make me ſorrie,
I ſho'd not be
With Thine, or Thee,
In Thy eternall Glorie.
But ſince
Thou didſt convince
My ſinnes, by gently ſtriking;
Add ſtill to thoſe
Firſt ſtripes, new blowes,
According to Thy liking.
Feare me,
Or ſcourging teare me;
That thus from vices driven,
I may from Hell
Flie up, to dwell
With Thee, and Thine in Heaven.

Graces for Children.

WHat God gives, and what we take,
'Tis a gift for Chriſt His ſake:
Be the meale of Beanes and Peaſe,
God be thank'd for thoſe, and theſe:
Have we fleſh, or have we fiſh,
All are Fragments from His diſh.
He His Church ſave, and the King,
And our Peace here, like a Spring,
Make it ever flouriſhing.

God to be firſt ſerv'd.

HOnour thy Parents; but good manners call
Thee to adore thy God, the firſt of all.

Another Grace for a Child.

HEre a little child I ſtand,
Heaving up my either hand;
Cold as Paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee,
For a Benizon to fall
On our meat, and on us all. Amen.

A Chriſtmas Caroll, ſung to the King in the Preſence at White-Hall.

WHat ſweeter muſick can we bring,
Then a Caroll, for to ſing
The Birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the Voice! Awake the String!
Heart, Eare, and Eye, and every thing
Awake! the while the active Finger
Runs diviſion with the Singer.

From the Flouriſh they came to the Song.

Dark and dull night, flie hence away,
And give the honour to this Day,
That ſees December turn'd to May.
If we may ask the reaſon, ſay;
The why, and wherefore all things here
Seem like the Spring-time of the yeere?
Why do's the chilling Winters morne
Smile, like a field beſet with corne?
Or ſmell, like to a Meade new-ſhorne,
Thus, on the ſudden? 4. Come and ſee
The cauſe, why things thus fragrant be:
'Tis He is borne, whoſe quickning Birth
Gives life and luſter, publike mirth,
To Heaven, and the under-Earth.
We ſee Him come, and know him ours,
Who, with His Sun-ſhine, and His ſhowers,
Turnes all the patient ground to flowers.
The Darling of the world is come,
And fit it is, we finde a roome
To welcome Him. 2. The nobler part
Of all the houſe here, is the heart,
Which we will give Him; and bequeath
This Hollie, and this Ivie Wreath,
To do Him honour; who's our King,
And Lord of all this Revelling.

The New-yeeres Gift, or Circumciſions Song, ſung to the King in the Preſence at White-Hall.

PRepare for Songs; He's come, He's come;
And be it ſin here to be dumb,
And not with Lutes to fill the roome.
Caſt Holy Water all about,
And have a care no fire gos out,
But 'cenſe the porch, and place throughout.
The Altars all on fier be;
The Storax fries; and ye may ſee,
How heart and hand do all agree,
To make things ſweet.
Yet all leſs ſweet then He.
Bring Him along, moſt pious Prieſt,
And tell us then, when as thou ſeeſt
His gently-gliding, Dove-like eyes,
And hear'ſt His whimp'ring, and His cries;
How canſt thou this Babe circumciſe?
Ye muſt not be more pitifull then wiſe;
For, now unleſſe ye ſee Him bleed,
Which makes the Bapti'me; 'tis decreed,
The Birth is fruitleſſe:
Then the work God ſpeed.
Touch gently, gently touch; and here
Spring Tulips up through all the yeere;
And from His ſacred Bloud, here ſhed,
May Roſes grow, to crown His own deare Head.
Back, back again; each thing is done
With zeale alike, as 'twas begun;
Now ſinging, homeward let us carrie
The Babe unto His Mother Marie;
And when we have the Child commended
To her warm boſome, then our Rites are ended.

Another New-yeeres Gift, or Song for the Circumciſion.

HEnce, hence prophane, and none appeare
With any thing unhallowed, here:
No jot of Leven muſt be found
Conceal'd in this moſt holy Ground.
What is corrupt, or ſowr'd with ſin,
Leave that without, then enter in;
But let no Chriſtmas mirth begin
Before ye purge, and circumciſe
Your hearts, and hands, lips, eares, and eyes.
Then, like a perfum'd Altar, ſee
That all things ſweet, and clean may be:
For, here's a Babe, that (like a Bride)
Will bluſh to death, if ought be ſpi'd
Ill-ſcenting, or unpurifi'd.
The room is cens'd: help, help t'invoke
Heaven to come down, the while we choke
The Temple, with a cloud of ſmoke.
Come then, and gently touch the Birth
Of Him, who's Lord of Heav'n and Earth;
And ſoftly handle Him: y'ad need,
Becauſe the prettie Babe do's bleed.
Poore-pittied Child! who from Thy Stall
Bring'ſt, in Thy Blood, a Balm, that ſhall
Be the beſt New-yeares Gift to all.
Let's bleſſe the Babe: And, as we ſing
His praiſe; ſo let us bleſſe the King:
Long may He live, till He hath told
His New-yeeres trebled to His old:
And, when that's done, to re-aſpire
A new-borne Phoenix from His own chaſt fire.

Gods Pardon.

WHen I ſhall ſin, pardon my treſpaſſe here;
For, once in hell, none knowes Remiſſion there.


SIn once reacht up to Gods eternall Sphere,
And was committed, not remitted there.


EVill no Nature hath; the loſſe of good
Is that which gives to ſin a livelihood.

The Star-Song: A Caroll to the King; ſung at White-Hall. The Flouriſh of Muſick: then followed the Song.

TEll us, thou cleere and heavenly Tongue,
Where is the Babe but lately ſprung?
Lies He the Lillie-banks among?
Or ſay, if this new Birth of ours
Sleeps, laid within ſome Ark of Flowers,
Spangled with deaw-light; thou canſt cleere
All doubts, and manifeſt the where.
Declare to us, bright Star, if we ſhall ſeek
Him in the Mornings bluſhing cheek,
Or ſearch the beds of Spices through,
To find him out?
No, this ye need not do;
But only come, and ſee Him reſt
A Princely Babe in's Mothers Breſt.
He's ſeen, He's ſeen, why then a Round,
Let's kiſſe the ſweet and holy ground;
And all rejoyce, that we have found
A King, before conception crown'd.
Come then, come then, and let us bring
Unto our prettie Twelfth-Tide King,
Each one his ſeverall offering;
And when night comes, wee'l give Him waſſailing:
And that His treble Honours may be ſeen,
Wee'l chuſe Him King, and make His Mother Queen.

To God.

WIth golden Cenſers, and with Incenſe, here,
Before Thy Virgin-Altar I appeare,
To pay Thee that I owe, ſince what I ſee
In, or without; all, all belongs to Thee:
Where ſhall I now begin to make, for one
Leaſt loane of Thine, half Reſtitution?
Alas! I cannot pay a jot; therefore
I'le kiſſe the Tally, and confeſſe the ſcore.
Ten thouſand Talents lent me, Thou doſt write:
'Tis true, my God; but I can't pay one mite.

To his deere God.

I'Le hope no more,
For things that will not come;
And, if they do, they prove but cumberſome;
Wealth brings much woe:
And, ſince it fortunes ſo;
'Tis better to be poore,
Then ſo t'abound,
As to be drown'd,
Or overwhelm'd with ſtore.
Pale care, avant,
I'le learn to be content
With that ſmall ſtock, Thy Bounty gave or lent.
What may conduce
To my moſt healthfull uſe,
Almighty God me grant;
But that, or this,
That hurtfull is,
Denie Thy ſuppliant.

To God, his good will.

GOld I have none, but I preſent my need,
O Thou, that crown'ſt the will, where wants the deed.
Where Rams are wanting, or large Bullocks thighs,
There a poor Lamb's a plenteous ſacrifice.
Take then his Vowes, who, if he had it, would
Devote to Thee, both incenſe, myrrhe, and gold,
Upon an Altar rear'd by Him, and crown'd
Both with the Rubie, Pearle, and Diamond.

On Heaven.

PErmit mine eyes to ſee
Part, or the whole of Thee,
O happy place!
Where all have Grace,
And Garlands ſhar'd,
For their reward;
Where each chaſt Soule
In long white ſtole,
And Palmes in hand,
Do raviſht ſtand;
So in a ring,
The praiſes ſing
Of Three in One,
That fill the Throne;
While Harps, and Vlolls then
To Voices, ſay, Amen.

The Summe, and the Satisfaction.

LAſt night I drew up mine Account,
And found my Debits to amount
To ſuch a height, as for to tell
How I ſho'd pay, 's impoſſible:
Well, this I'le do; my mighty ſcore
Thy mercy-ſeat I'le lay before;
But therewithall I'le bring the Band,
Which, in full force, did daring ſtand,
Till my Redeemer (on the Tree)
Made void for millions, as for me.
Then, if Thou bidſt me pay, or go
Unto the priſon, I'le ſay, no;
Chriſt having paid, I nothing owe:
For, this is ſure, the Debt is dead
By Law, the Bond once cancelled.

Good men afflicted moſt.

GOD makes not good men wantons, but doth bring
Them to the field, and, there, to skirmiſhing;
With trialls thoſe, with terrors theſe He proves,
And hazards thoſe moſt, whom the moſt He loves:
For Sceva, darts; for Cocles, dangers; thus
He finds a fire for mighty Mutius;
Death for ſtout Cato; and beſides all theſe,
A poyſon too He has for Socrates;
Torments for high Attilius; and, with want,
Brings in Fabricius for a Combatant:
But, baſtard-ſlips, and ſuch as He diſlikes,
He never brings them once to th' puſh of Pikes.

Good Chriſtians

PLay their offenſive and defenſive parts,
Till they be hid o're with a wood of darts.

The Will the cauſe of Woe.

WHen man is puniſht, he is plagued ſtill,
Not for the fault of Nature, but of will.

To Heaven.

OPen thy gates
To him, who weeping waits,
And might come in,
But that held back by ſin.
Let mercy be
So kind, to ſet me free,
And I will ſtrait
Come in, or force the gate.

The Recompence.

ALL I have loſt, that co'd be rapt from me;
And fare it well: yet Herrick, if ſo be
Thy Deereſt Saviour renders thee but one
Smile, that one ſmile's full reſtitution.

To God.

PArdon me God, (once more I Thee intreat)
That I have plac'd Thee in ſo meane a ſeat,
Where round about Thou ſeeſt but all things vaine,
Uncircumcis'd, unſeaſon'd, and prophane.
But as Heavens publike and immortall Eye
Looks on the filth, but is not ſoil'd thereby;
So Thou, my God, may'ſt on this impure look,
But take no tincture from my ſinfull Book:
Let but one beame of Glory on it ſhine,
And that will make me, and my Work divine.

To God.

LOrd, I am like to Miſletoe,
Which has no root, and cannot grow,
Or proſper, but by that ſame tree
It clings about; ſo I by Thee.
What need I then to feare at all,
So long as I about Thee craule?
But if that Tree ſho'd fall, and die,
Tumble ſhall heav'n, and down will I.

His wiſh to God.

I Would to God, that mine old age might have
Before my laſt, but here a living grave,
Some one poore Almes-houſe; there to lie, or ſtir,
Ghoſt-like, as in my meaner ſepulcher;
A little piggin, and a pipkin by,
To hold things fitting my neceſſity;
Which, rightly us'd, both in their time and place,
Might me excite to fore, and after-grace.
Thy Croſſe, my Chriſt, fixt 'fore mine eyes ſho'd be,
Not to adore that, but to worſhip Thee.
So, here the remnant of my dayes I'd ſpend,
Reading Thy Bible, and my Book; ſo end.


WHen we 'gainſt Satan ſtoutly fight, the more
He teares and tugs us, then he did before;
Neglecting once to caſt a frown on thoſe
Whom eaſe makes his, without the help of blowes.


HEll is no other, but a ſoundleſſe pit,
Where no one beame of comfort peeps in it.

The way.

WHen I a ſhip ſee on the Seas,
Cuft with thoſe watrie ſavages,
And therewithall, behold, it hath
In all that way no beaten path;
Then, with a wonder, I confeſſe,
Thou art our way i'th wilderneſſe:
And while we blunder in the dark,
Thou art our candle there, or ſpark.

Great grief, great glory.

THe leſſe our ſorrowes here and ſuffrings ceaſe,
The more our Crownes of Glory there increaſe.


HEll is the place where whipping-cheer abounds,
But no one Jailor there to waſh the wounds.

The Bell-man.

A Long the dark, and ſilent night,
With my Lantern, and my Light,
And the tinkling of my Bell,
Thus I walk, and this I tell:
Death and dreadfulneſſe call on,
To the gen'rall Seſſion;
To whoſe diſmall Barre, we there
All accompts muſt come to cleere:
Scores of ſins w'ave made here many,
Wip't out few, (God knowes) if any.
Riſe ye Debters then, and fall
To make paiment, while I call.
Ponder this, when I am gone;
By the clock 'tis almoſt One.

The goodneſſe of his God.

WHen Winds and Seas do rage,
And threaten to undo me,
Thou doſt their wrath aſſwage,
If I but call unto Thee.
A mighty ſtorm laſt night
Did ſeek my ſoule to ſwallow,
But by the peep of light
A gentle calme did follow.
What need I then deſpaire,
Though ills ſtand round about me;
Since miſchiefs neither dare
To bark, or bite, without Thee?

The VViddowes teares: or, Dirge of Dorcas.

COme pitie us, all ye, who ſee
Our Harps hung on the Willow-tree:
Come pitie us, ye Paſſers by,
Who ſee, or heare poor Widdowes crie:
Come pitie us; and bring your eares,
And eyes, to pitie Widdowes teares.
And when you are come hither;
Then we will keep
A Faſt, and weep
Our eyes out all together.
For Tabitha, who dead lies here,
Clean waſht, and laid out for the Beere;
O modeſt Matrons, weep and waile!
For now the Corne and Wine muſt faile:
The Basket and the Bynn of Bread,
Wherewith ſo many ſoules were fed
Stand empty here for ever:
And ah! the Poore,
At thy worne Doore,
Shall be releeved never.
Woe worth the Time, woe worth the day,
That reav'd us of thee Tabitha!
For we have loſt, with thee, the Meale,
The Bits, the Morſells, and the deale
Of gentle Paſte, and yeelding Dow,
That Thou on Widdowes didſt beſtow.
All's gone, and Death hath taken
Away from us
Our Maundie; thus,
Thy Widdowes ſtand forſaken.
Ah Dorcas, Dorcas! now adieu
We bid the Creuſe and Pannier too:
I and the fleſh, for and the fiſh,
Dol'd to us in That Lordly diſh.
We take our leaves now of the Loome,
From whence the houſe-wives cloth did come:
The web affords now nothing;
Thou being dead,
The wooſted thred
Is cut, that made us clothing.
Farewell the Flax and Reaming wooll,
With which thy houſe was plentifull.
Farewell the Coats, the Garments, and
The Sheets, the Rugs, made by thy hand.
Farewell thy Fier and thy Light,
That ne're went out by Day or Night:
No, or thy zeale ſo ſpeedy,
That found a way
By peep of day,
To feed and cloth the Needy.
But, ah, alas! the Almond Bough,
And Olive Branch is wither'd now.
The Wine Preſſe now is ta'ne from us,
The Saffron and the Calamus.
The Spice and Spiknard hence is gone,
The Storax and the Cynamon,
The Caroll of our gladneſſe
Ha's taken wing,
And our late ſpring
Of mirth is turn'd to ſadneſſe.
How wiſe waſt thou in all thy waies!
How worthy of reſpect and praiſe!
How Matron-like didſt thou go dreſt!
How ſoberly above the reſt
Of thoſe that prank it with their Plumes;
And jet it with their choice purfumes.
Thy veſtures were not flowing:
Nor did the ſtreet
Accuſe thy feet
Of mincing in their going.
And though thou here li'ſt dead, we ſee
A deale of beauty yet in thee.
How ſweetly ſhewes thy ſmiling face,
Thy lips with all diffuſed grace!
Thy hands (though cold) yet ſpotleſſe, white,
And comely as the Chryſolite.
Thy belly like a hill is,
Or as a neat
Cleane heap of wheat,
All ſet about with Lillies.
Sleep with thy beauties here, while we
Will ſhew theſe garments made by thee;
Theſe were the Coats, in theſe are read
The monuments of Dorcas dead.
Theſe were thy Acts, and thou ſhalt have
Theſe hung, as honours o're thy Grave,
And after us (diſtreſſed)
Sho'd fame be dumb;
Thy very Tomb
Would cry out, Thou art bleſſed.

To God, in time of plundering.

RApine has yet tooke nought from me;
But if it pleaſe my God, I be
Brought at the laſt to th' utmoſt bit,
God make me thankfull ſtill for it.
I have been gratefull for my ſtore:
Let me ſay grace when there's no more.

To his Saviour. The New yeers gift.

THat little prettie bleeding part
Of Foreskin ſend to me:
And Ile returne a bleeding Heart,
For New-yeers gift to thee.
Rich is the Jemme that thou did'ſt ſend,
Mine's faulty too, and ſmall:
But yet this Gift Thou wilt commend,
Becauſe I ſend Thee all.


LEt not that Day Gods Friends and Servants ſcare
The Bench is then their place; and not the Barre.

The Poores Portion.

THe ſup'rabundance of my ſtore,
That is the portion of the poore:
Wheat, Barley, Rie, or Oats; what is't
But he takes tole of? all the Grieſt.
Two raiments have I: Chriſt then makes
This Law; that He and I part ſtakes.
Or have I two loaves; then I uſe
The poore to cut, and I to chuſe.

The white Iſland: or place of the Bleſt.

IN this world (the Iſle of Dreames)
While we ſit by ſorrowes ſtreames,
Teares and terrors are our theames
But when once from hence we flie,
More and more approaching nigh
Unto young Eternitie
In that whiter Iſland, where
Things are evermore ſincere;
Candor here, and luſtre there
There no monſtrous fancies ſhall
Out of hell an horrour call,
To create (or cauſe at all)
There in calm and cooling ſleep
We our eyes ſhall never ſteep;
But eternall watch ſhall keep,
Pleaſures, ſuch as ſhall purſue
Me immortaliz'd, and you;
And freſh joyes, as never too
Have ending.

To Chriſt.

I Crawle, I creep; my Chriſt, I come
To Thee, for curing Balſamum:
Thou haſt, nay more, Thou art the Tree,
Affording ſalve of Soveraigntie.
My mouth I'le lay unto Thy wound
Bleeding, that no Blood touch the ground:
For, rather then one drop ſhall fall
To waſt, my JESU, I'le take all.

To God.

GOD! to my little meale and oyle,
Add but a bit of fleſh, to boyle:
And Thou my Pipkinnet ſhalt ſee,
Give a wave-offring unto Thee.

Free Welcome.

GOD He refuſeth no man; but makes way
For All that now come, or hereafter may.

Gods Grace.

GODS Grace deſerves here to be daily fed,
That, thus increaſt, it might be perfected.

Coming to Chriſt.

TO him, who longs unto his CHRIST to go,
Celerity even it ſelf is ſlow.


GOD had but one Son free from ſin; but none
Of all His ſonnes free from correction.

Gods Bounty.

GOD, as He's potent, ſo He's likewiſe known,
To give us more then Hope can fix upon.


SCience in God, is known to be
A Subſtance, not a Qualitie.


CHRIST, I have read, did to His Chaplains ſay,
Sending them forth, Salute no man by'th way:
Not, that He taught His Miniſters to be
Unſmooth, or ſowre, to all civilitie;
But to inſtruct them, to avoid all ſnares
Of tardidation in the Lords Affaires.
Manners are good: but till his errand ends,
Salute we muſt, nor Strangers, Kin, or Friends.


LAſciviouſneſſe is known to be
The ſiſter to ſaturitie.


GOD from our eyes all teares hereafter wipes,
And gives His Children kiſſes then, not ſtripes.

Gods Bleſsing.

IN vain our labours are, whatſoe're they be,
Unleſſe God gives the Benedicite.

God, and Lord.

GOD, is His Name of Nature; but that word
Implies His Power, when He's cal'd the LORD.

The Iudgment-Day.

GOD hides from man the reck'ning Day, that He
May feare it ever for uncertaintie:
That being ignorant of that one, he may
Expect the coming of it ev'ry day.


ANgells are called Gods; yet of them, none
Are Gods, but by participation:
As Juſt Men are intitled Gods, yet none
Are Gods, of them, but by Adoption.

Long life.

THe longer thred of life we ſpin,
The more occaſion ſtill to ſin.


THe teares of Saints more ſweet by farre,
Then all the ſongs of ſinners are.


THat Manna, which God on His people caſt,
Fitted it ſelf to ev'ry Feeders taſt.


TRue rev'rence is (as Caſſiadore doth prove)
The feare of God, commixt with cleanly love.


MErcy, the wiſe Athenians held to be
Not an Affection, but a Deitie.


AFter this life, the wages ſhall
Not ſhar'd alike be unto all.


GOD tempteth no one (as S. Aug'ſtine ſaith)
For any ill; but, for the proof of Faith:
Unto temptation God expoſeth ſome;
But none, of purpoſe, to be overcome.

Gods hands.

GOds Hands are round, & ſmooth, that gifts may fall
Freely from them, and hold none back at all.


LAbour we muſt, and labour hard
I'th Forum here, or Vineyard.

Mora Sponſi, the ſtay of the Bridegroome.

THe time the Bridegroom ſtayes from hence,
Is but the time of penitence.


ROaring is nothing but a weeping part,
Forc'd from the mighty dolour of the heart.

The Euchariſt.

HE that is hurt ſeeks help: ſin is the wound;
The ſalve for this i'th Euchariſt is found.

Sin ſeverely puniſht.

GOD in His own Day will be then ſevere,
To puniſh great ſins, who ſmall faults whipt here.

Montes Scripturarum, the Mounts of the Scriptures.

THe Mountains of the Scriptures are (ſome ſay)
Moſes, and Ieſus, called Ioſhua:
The Prophets Mountains of the Old are meant;
Th' Apoſtles Mounts of the New Teſtament.


A Prayer, that is ſaid alone,
Starves, having no companion.
Great things ask for, when thou doſt pray,
And thoſe great are, which ne're decay.
Pray not for ſilver, ruſt eats this;
Ask not for gold, which metall is:
Nor yet for houſes, which are here
But earth: ſuch vowes nere reach Gods eare.

Chriſts ſadneſſe.

CHriſt was not ſad, i'th garden, for His own
Paſſion, but for His ſheeps diſperſion.

God heares us.

GOD, who's in Heav'n, will hear from thence;
If not to'th ſound, yet, to the ſenſe.


GOD (as the learned Damaſcen doth write)
A Sea of Subſtance is, Indefinite.


HE that aſcended in a cloud, ſhall come
In clouds, deſcending to the publike Doome.

Comforts in contentions.

THe ſame, who crownes the Conquerour, will be
A Coadjutor in the Agonie.


HEav'n is moſt faire; but fairer He
That made that faireſt Canopie.


IN God there's nothing, but 'tis known to be
Ev'n God Himſelf, in perfect Entitie.

His Power.

GOD can do all things, ſave but what are known
For to imply a contradiction.

Christs words on the Croſſe, My God, My God.

CHRIST, when He hung the dreadfull Croſſe upon,
Had (as it were) a Dereliction;
In this regard, in thoſe great terrors He
Had no one Beame from Gods ſweet Majeſtie.


IEHOVAH, as Boëtius ſaith,
No number of the Plurall hath.

Confuſion of face.

GOd then confounds mans face, when He not hears
The Vowes of thoſe, who are Petitioners.


THe ſhame of mans face is no more
Then prayers repel'd, (ſayes Caſſiodore.)


IAcob Gods Beggar was; and ſo we wait
(Though ne're ſo rich) all beggars at His Gate.

Good, and bad.

THe Bad among the Good are here mixt ever:
The Good without the Bad are here plac'd never.


SIn no Exiſtence; Nature none it hath,
Or Good at all, (as learn'd Aquinas ſaith.)

Martha, Martha.

THe repetition of the name made known
No other, then Chriſts full Affection.

Youth, and Age.

GOD on our Youth beſtowes but little eaſe;
But on our Age moſt ſweet Indulgences.

Gods Power.

GOD is ſo potent, as His Power can
Draw out of bad a ſoveraigne good to man.


PAradiſe is (as from the Learn'd I gather)
A quire of bleſt Soules circling in the Father.


THe Jewes, when they built Houſes (I have read)
One part thereof left ſtill unfiniſhed:
To make them, thereby, mindfull of their own
Cities moſt ſad and dire deſtruction.

The Aſſe.

GOD did forbid the Iſraelites, to bring
An Aſſe unto Him, for an offering:
Onely, by this dull creature, to expreſſe
His deteſtation to all ſlothfulneſſe.


THe Virgin-Mother ſtood at diſtance (there)
From her Sonnes Croſſe, not ſhedding once a teare:
Becauſe the Law forbad to ſit and crie
For thoſe, who did as malefactors die.
So ſhe, to keep her mighty woes in awe,
Tortur'd her love, not to tranſgreſſe the Law.
Obſerve we may, how Mary Joſes then,
And th'other Mary (Mary Magdalen)
Sate by the Grave; and ſadly ſitting there,
Shed for their Maſter many a bitter teare:
But 'twas not till their deareſt Lord was dead;
And then to weep they both were licenſed.


THoſe Tapers, which we ſet upon the grave,
In fun'rall pomp, but this importance have;
That ſoules departed are not put out quite;
But, as they walk't here in their veſtures white,
So live in Heaven, in everlaſting light.

Chriſts Birth.

ONe Birth our Saviour had; the like none yet
Was, or will be a ſecond like to it.

The Virgin Mary.

TO work a wonder, God would have her ſhown,
At once, a Bud, and yet a Roſe full-blowne.


AS Sun-beames pierce the glaſſe, and ſtreaming in,
No crack or Schiſme leave i'th ſubtill skin:
So the Divine Hand work't, and brake no thred,
But, in a Mother, kept a maiden-head.


GOD, in the holy Tongue, they call
The Place that filleth All in all.

Another of God.

GOD's ſaid to leave this place, and for to come
Nearer to that place, then to other ſome:
Of locall motion, in no leaſt reſpect,
But only by impreſſion of effect.


GOD is Jehovah cal'd; which name of His
Implies or Eſſence, or the He that Is.

Gods preſence.

GOD's evident, and may be ſaid to be
Preſent with juſt men, to the veritie:
But with the wicked if He doth comply,
'Tis (as S. Bernard ſaith) but ſeemingly.

Gods Dwelling.

GOD's ſaid to dwell there, whereſoever He
Puts down ſome prints of His high Majeſtie:
As when to man He comes, and there doth place
His holy Spirit, or doth plant His Grace.

The Virgin Mary.

THe Virgin Marie was (as I have read)
The Houſe of God, by Chriſt inhabited;
Into the which He enter'd: but, the Doore
Once ſhut, was never to be open'd more.

To God.

GOD's undivided, One in Perſons Three;
And Three in Inconfuſed Ʋnity:
Originall of Eſſence there is none
'Twixt God the Father, Holy Ghoſt, and Sonne:
And though the Father be the firſt of Three,
'Tis but by Order, not by Entitie.

Upon Woman and Mary.

SO long (it ſeem'd) as Maries Faith was ſmall,
Chriſt did her Woman, not her Mary call:
But no more Woman, being ſtrong in Faith;
But Mary cal'd then (as S. Ambroſe ſaith.)

North and South.

THe Jewes their beds, and offices of eaſe,
Plac't North and South, for theſe cleane purpoſes;
That mans uncomely froth might not moleſt
Gods wayes and walks, which lie ſtill Eaſt and Weſt.


SAbbaths are threefold, (as S. Auſtine ſayes:)
The firſt of Time, or Sabbath here of Dayes;
The ſecond is a Conſcience treſpaſſe-free;
The laſt the Sabbath of Eternitie.

The Faſt, or Lent.

NOah the firſt was (as Tradition ſayes)
That did ordaine the Faſt of forty Dayes.


THere is no evill that we do commit,
But hath th' extraction of ſome good from it:
As when we ſin; God, the great Chymiſt, thence
Drawes out th' Elixar of true penitence.


GOD is more here, then in another place,
Not by His Eſſence, but commerce of Grace.

This, and the next World.

GOD hath this world for many made; 'tis true:
But He hath made the world to come for few.


GOD gives to none ſo abſolute an Eaſe,
As not to know, or feel ſome Grievances.

Beginnings and Endings.

PAul, he began ill, but he ended well;
Judas began well, but he foulely fell:
In godlineſſe, not the beginnings, ſo
Much as the ends are to be lookt unto.

Temporall goods.

THeſe temp'rall goods God (the moſt Wiſe) com­mends
To th' good and bad, in common, for two ends:
Firſt, that theſe goods none here may o're eſteem,
Becauſe the wicked do partake of them:
Next, that theſe ills none cowardly may ſhun;
Being, oft here, the juſt mans portion.

Hell fire.

THe fire of Hell this ſtrange condition hath,
To burn, not ſhine (as learned Baſil ſaith.)

Abels Bloud.

SPeak, did the Bloud of Abel cry
To God for vengeance? yes ſay I;
Ev'n as the ſprinkled bloud cal'd on
God, for an expiation.


THe bloud of Abel was a thing
Of ſuch a rev'rend reckoning,
As that the old World thought it fit,
Eſpecially to ſweare by it.

A Poſition in the Hebrew Divinity.

ONe man repentant is of more eſteem
With God, then one, that never ſin'd 'gainſt Him.


THe Doctors, in the Talmud, ſay,
That in this world, one onely day
In true repentance ſpent, will be
More worth, then Heav'ns Eternitie.

Gods preſence.

GOD's preſent ev'ry where; but moſt of all
Preſent by Union Hypoſtaticall:
God, He is there, where's nothing elſe (Schooles ſay)
And nothing elſe is there, where He's away.

The Reſurrection poſsible, and probable.

FOr each one Body, that i'th earth is ſowne,
There's an up-riſing but of one for one:
But for each Graine, that in the ground is thrown,
Threeſcore or foureſcore ſpring up thence for one:
So that the wonder is not halfe ſo great,
Of ours, as is the riſing of the wheat.

Chriſts ſuffering.

IUſtly our deareſt Saviour may abhorre us,
Who hath more ſuffer'd by us farre, then for us.


SInners confounded are a twofold way,
Either as when (the learned Schoolemen ſay)
Mens ſins deſtroyed are, when they repent;
Or when, for ſins, men ſuffer puniſhment.


NO man is tempted ſo, but may o'recome,
If that he has a will to Maſterdome.

Pittie, and puniſhment.

GOD doth embrace the good with love; & gaines
The good by mercy, as the bad by paines.

Gods price, and mans price.

GOd bought man here wtsh his hearts blood expence;
And man ſold God here for baſe thirty pence.

Chriſts Action.

CHRIST never did ſo great a work, but there
His humane Nature did, in part, appeare:
Or, ne're ſo meane a peece, but men might ſee
Therein ſome beames of His Divinitie:
So that, in all He did, there did combine
His Humane Nature, and His Part Divine,


PRedeſtination is the Cauſe alone
Of many ſtanding, but of fall to none.


ARt thou not deſtin'd? then, with haſt, go on
To make thy faire Predeſtination:
If thou canſt change thy life, God then will pleaſe
To change, or call back, His paſt Sentences.


SIn never ſlew a ſoule, unleſſe there went
Along with it ſome tempting blandiſhment.


SIn is an act ſo free, that if we ſhall
Say, 'tis not free, 'tis then no ſin at all.


SIn is the cauſe of death; and ſin's alone
The cauſe of Gods Predeſtination:
And from Gods Preſcience of mans ſin doth flow
Our Deſtination to eternall woe.


GOds Preſcience makes none ſinfull; but th'offence
Of man's the chief cauſe of Gods Preſcience.


TO all our wounds, here, whatſoe're they be,
Chriſt is the one ſufficient Remedie.

Chriſts Incarnation.

CHRIST took our Nature on Him, not that He
'Bove all things lov'd it, for the puritie:
No, but He dreſt Him with our humane Trim,
Becauſe our fleſh ſtood moſt in need of Him.


HEaven is not given for our good works here:
Yet it is given to the Labourer.

Gods keyes.

GOD has foure keyes, which He reſerves alone;
The firſt of Raine, the key of Hell next known:
With the third key He opes and ſhuts the wombe;
And with the fourth key He unlocks the tombe.


THere's no conſtraint to do amiſſe,
Whereas but one enforcement is.


GIve unto all, leſt he, whom thou deni'ſt,
May chance to be no other man, but Chriſt.

Hell fire.

ONe onely fire has Hell; but yet it ſhall,
Not after one ſort, there excruciate all:
But look, how each tranſgreſſor onward went
Boldly in ſin, ſhall feel more puniſhment.

To keep a true Lent.

IS this a Faſt, to keep
The Larder leane?
And cleane
From fat of Veales, and Sheep?
Is it to quit the diſh
Of Fleſh, yet ſtill
To fill
The platter high with Fiſh?
Is it to faſt an houre,
Or rag'd to go,
Or ſhow
A down-caſt look, and ſowre?
No: 'tis a Faſt, to dole
Thy ſheaf of wheat,
And meat,
Unto the hungry Soule.
It is to faſt from ſtrife,
From old debate,
And hate;
To circumciſe thy life.
To ſhew a heart grief-rent;
To ſterve thy ſin,
Not Bin;
And that's to keep thy Lent.

No time in Eternitie.

BY houres we all live here, in Heaven is known
No ſpring of Time, or Times ſucceſſion.

His Meditation upon Death

BE thoſe few hours, which I have yet to ſpend,
Bleſt with the Meditation of my end:
Though they be few in number, I'm content;
If otherwiſe, I ſtand indifferent:
Nor makes it matter, Neſtors yeers to tell,
If man lives long, and if he live not well.
A multitude of dayes ſtill heaped on,
Seldome brings order, but confuſion.
Might I make choice, long life ſho'd be with-ſtood;
Nor wo'd I care how ſhort it were, if good:
Which to effect, let ev'ry paſſing Bell
Poſſeſſe my thoughts, next comes my dolefull knell:
And when the night perſwades me to my bed,
I'le thinke I'm going to be buried:
So ſhall the Blankets which come over me,
Preſent thoſe Turfs, which once muſt cover me:
And with as firme behaviour I will meet
The ſheet I ſleep in, as my Winding-ſheet.
When ſleep ſhall bath his body in mine eyes,
I will believe, that then my body dies:
And if I chance to wake, and riſe thereon,
I'le have in mind my Reſurrection,
Which muſt produce me to that Gen'rall Doome,
To which the Peſant, ſo the Prince muſt come,
To heare the Judge give ſentence on the Throne,
Without the leaſt hope of affection.
Teares, at that day, ſhall make but weake defence;
When Hell and Horrour fright the Conſcience.
Let me, though late, yet at the laſt, begin
To ſhun the leaſt Temptation to a ſin;
Though to be tempted be no ſin, untill
Man to th' alluring object gives his will.
Such let my life aſſure me, when my breath
Goes theeving from me, I am ſafe in death;
Which is the height of comfort, when I fall,
I riſe triumphant in my Funerall.

Cloaths for Continuance.

THoſe Garments laſting evermore,
Are works of mercy to the poore,
Which neither Tettar, Time, or Moth
Shall fray that ſilke, or fret this cloth.

To God.

COme to me God; but do not come
To me, as to the gen'rall Doome,
In power; or come Thou in that ſtate,
When Thou Thy Lawes didſt promulgate,
When as the Mountains quak'd for dread,
And ſullen clouds bound up his head.
No, lay thy ſtately terrours by,
To talke with me familiarly;
For if Thy thunder-claps I heare,
I ſhall leſſe ſwoone, then die for feare.
Speake thou of love and I'le reply
By way of Epithalamie,
Or ſing of mercy, and I'le ſuit
To it my Violl and my Lute:
Thus let Thy lips but love diſtill,
Then come my God, and hap what will,

The Soule.

WHen once the Soule has loſt her way,
O then, how reſtleſſe do's ſhe ſtray!
And having not her God for light,
How do's ſhe erre in endleſſe night!

The Judgement day.

IN doing juſtice, God ſhall then be known,
Who ſhewing mercy here, few priz'd, or none.


WE merit all we ſuffer, and by far
More ſtripes, then God layes on the ſufferer.

Paine and pleaſure.

GOD ſuffers not His Saints, and Servants deere,
To have continuall paine, or pleaſure here:
But look how night ſucceeds the day, ſo He
Gives them by turnes their grief and jollitie.

Gods preſence.

GOD is all-preſent to what e're we do,
And as all-preſent, ſo all-filling too.


TThat there's a God, we all do know,
But what God is, we cannot ſhow.

The poore mans part.

TEll me rich man, for what intent
Thou load'ſt with gold thy veſtiment?
When as the poore crie out, to us
Belongs all gold ſuperfluous.

The right hand.

GOD has a Right Hand, but is quite bereft
Of that, which we do nominate the Left.

The Staffe and Rod.

TWo inſtruments belong unto our God;
The one a Staffe is, and the next a Rod:
That if the twig ſho'd chance too much to ſmart,
The ſtaffe might come to play the friendly part.

God ſparing in ſcourging.

GOD ſtill rewards us more then our deſert:
But when He ſtrikes, He quarter-acts His part.


COnfeſſion twofold is (as Austine ſayes,)
The firſt of ſin is, and the next of praiſe:
If ill it goes with thee, thy faults confeſſe:
If well, then chant Gods praiſe with cheerfulneſſe.

Gods deſcent.

GOD is then ſaid for to deſcend, when He
Doth, here on earth, ſome thing of novitie;
As when, in humane nature He works more
Then ever, yet, the like was done before.

No coming to God without Chriſt.

GOod and great God! How ſho'd I feare
To come to Thee, if Chriſt not there!
Co'd I but think, He would not be
Preſent, to plead my cauſe for me;
To Hell I'd rather run, then I
Wo'd ſee Thy Face, and He not by.

Another, to God.

THough Thou beeſt all that Active Love,
Which heats thoſe raviſht Soules above;
And though all joyes ſpring from the glance
Of Thy moſt winning countenance;
Yet ſowre and grim Thou'dſt ſeem to me;
If through my Chriſt I ſaw not Thee.

The Reſurrection.

THat Chriſt did die, the Pagan ſaith;
But that He roſe, that's Chriſtians Faith.


WE are Coheires with Chriſt; nor ſhall His own
Heire-ſhip be leſſe, by our adoption:
The number here of Heires, ſhall from the ſtate
Of His great Birth-right nothing derogate.

The number of two.

GOD hates the Duall Number; being known
The luckleſſe number of diviſion:
And when He bleſt each ſev'rall Day, whereon
He did His curious operation;
'Tis never read there (as the Fathers ſay,)
God bleſt His work done on the ſecond day:
Wherefore two prayers ought not to be ſaid,
Or by our ſelves, or from the Pulpit read.

Hardning of hearts.

GOD's ſaid our hearts to harden then,
When as His grace not ſupples men.

The Roſe.

BEfore Mans fall, the Roſe was born
(S. Ambroſe ſayes) without the Thorn:
But, for Mans fault, then was the Thorn,
Without the fragrant Roſe-bud, born;
But ne're the Roſe without the Thorn.

Gods time muſt end our trouble.

GOD doth not promiſe here to man, that He
Will free him quickly from his miſerie;
But in His own time, and when He thinks fit,
Then He will give a happy end to it.


THe ſtrength of Baptiſme, that's within;
It ſaves the ſoule, by drowning ſin.

Gold and Frankincenſe.

GOld ſerves for Tribute to the King;
The Frankincenſe for Gods Offring.

To God.

GOD, who me gives a will for to repent,
Will add a power, to keep me innocent;
That I ſhall ne're that treſpaſſe recommit,
When I have done true Penance here for it.

The chewing the Cud.

WHen well we ſpeak, & nothing do that's good,
We not divide the Hoof, but chew the Cud:
But when good words, by good works, have their proof,
We then both chew the Cud, and cleave the Hoof.

Chriſts twofold coming.

THy former coming was to cure
My ſoules moſt deſp'rate Calenture;
Thy ſecond Advent, that muſt be
To heale my Earths infirmitie.

To God, his gift.

AS my little Pot doth boyle,
We will keep this Levell-Coyle;
That a Wave, and I will bring
To my God, a Heave-offering.

Gods Anger.

GOD can't be wrathfull; but we may conclude,
Wrathfull He may be, by ſimilitude:
God's wrathfull ſaid to be, when He doth do
That without wrath, which wrath doth force us to.

Gods Commands.

IN Gods Commands, ne're ask the reaſon why;
Let thy obedience be the beſt Reply.

To God.

IF I have plaid the Truant, or have here
Fail'd in my part; O! Thou that art my deare,
My mild, my loving Tutor, Lord and God!
Correct my errors gently with Thy Rod.
I know, that faults will many here be found,
But where ſin ſwells, there let Thy grace abound.

To God.

THe work is done; now let my Lawrell be
Given by none, but by Thy ſelfe, to me:
That done, with Honour Thou doſt me create
Thy Poet, and Thy Prophet Lawreat.

Good Friday: Rex Tragicus, or Chriſt going to His Croſſe.

PUt off Thy Robe of Purple, then go on
To the ſad place of execution:
Thine houre is come; and the Tormentor ſtands
Ready, to pierce Thy tender Feet, and Hands.
Long before this, the baſe, the dull, the rude,
Th' inconſtant, and unpurged Multitude
Yawne for Thy coming; ſome e're this time crie,
How He deferres, how loath He is to die!
Amongſt this ſcumme, the Souldier, with his ſpeare,
And that ſowre Fellow, with his vineger,
His ſpunge, and ſtick, do ask why Thou doſt ſtay?
So do the Skurfe and Bran too: Go Thy way,
Thy way, Thou guiltleſſe man, and ſatisfie
By Thine approach, each their beholding eye.
Not as a thief, ſhalt Thou aſcend the mount,
But like a Perſon of ſome high account:
The Croſſe ſhall be Thy Stage; and Thou ſhalt there
The ſpacious field have for Thy Theater.
Thou art that Roſcius, and that markt-out man,
That muſt this day act the Tragedian,
To wonder and affrightment: Thou art He,
Whom all the flux of Nations comes to ſee;
Not thoſe poor Theeves that act their parts with Thee:
Thoſe act without regard, when once a King,
And God, as Thou art, comes to ſuffering.
No, No, this Scene from Thee takes life and ſenſe,
And ſoule and ſpirit plot, and excellence.
Why then begin, great King! aſcend Thy Throne,
And thence proceed, to act Thy Paſſion
To ſuch an height, to ſuch a period rais'd,
As Hell, and Earth, and Heav'n may ſtand amaz'd.
God, and good Angells guide Thee; and ſo bleſſe
Thee in Thy ſeverall parts of bitterneſſe;
That thoſe, who ſee Thee nail'd unto the Tree,
May (though they ſcorn Thee) praiſe and pitie Thee.
And we (Thy Lovers) while we ſee Thee keep
The Lawes of Action, will both ſigh, and weep;
And bring our Spices, to embalm Thee dead;
That done, wee'l ſee Thee ſweetly buried.

His words to Chriſt, going to the Croſſe.

WHen Thou waſt taken, Lord, I oft have read,
All Thy Diſciples Thee forſook, and fled.
Let their example not a pattern be
For me to flie, but now to follow Thee.

Another, to his Saviour.

IF Thou beeſt taken, God forbid,
I flie from Thee, as others did:
But if Thou wilt ſo honour me,
As to accept my companie,
I'le follow Thee, hap, hap what ſhall,
Both to the Judge, and Judgment-Hall:
And, if I ſee Thee poſted there,
To be all-flayd with whipping-cheere,
I'le take my ſhare; or els, my God,
Thy ſtripes I'le kiſſe, or burn the Rod.

His Saviours words, going to the Croſſe.

HAve, have ye no regard, all ye
Who paſſe this way, to pitie me,
Who am a man of miſerie!
A man both bruis'd, and broke, and one
Who ſuffers not here for mine own,
But for my friends tranſgreſſion!
Ah! Sions Daughters, do not feare
The Croſſe, the Cords, the Nailes, the Speare,
The Myrrhe, the Gall, the Vineger:
For Chriſt, your loving Saviour, hath
Drunk up the wine of Gods fierce wrath;
Onely, there's left a little froth,
Leſſe for to taſt, then for to ſhew,
What bitter cups had been your due,
Had He not drank them up for you.

His Anthem, to Chriſt on the Croſſe.

WHen I behold Thee, almoſt ſlain,
With one, and all parts, full of pain:
When I Thy gentle Heart do ſee
Pierc't through, and dropping bloud, for me,
I'le call, and cry out, Thanks to Thee.
But yet it wounds my ſoule, to think,
That for my ſin, Thou, Thou muſt drink,
Even Thou alone, the biter cup
Of furie, and of vengeance up.
Lord, I'le not ſee Thee to drink all
The Vineger, the Myrrhe, the Gall:
Ver. Chor.
But I will ſip a little wine;
Which done, Lord ſay, The reſt is mine.
This Croſſe Tree here
Doth JESUS beare,
Who ſweet'ned firſt,
The Death accurs't.
HEre all things ready are, make haſt, make haſt away;
For, long this work wil be, & very ſhort this Day.
Why then, go on to act: Here's wonders to be done,
Before the laſt leaſt ſand of Thy ninth houre be run;
Or e're dark Clouds do dull, or dead the Mid-dayes Sun.
Act when Thou wilt,
Bloud will be ſpilt;
Pure Balm, that ſhall
Bring Health to All.
Why then, Begin
To powre firſt in
Some Drops of Wine,
In ſtead of Brine,
To ſearch the Wound,
So long unſound:
And, when that's done,
Let Oyle, next, run,
To cure the Sore
Sinne made before.
And O! Deare Chriſt,
E'en as Thou di'ſt,
Look down, and ſee
Us weepe for Thee.
And tho (Love knows)
Thy dreadfull Woes
Wee cannot eaſe;
Yet doe Thou pleaſe,
Who Mercie art,
T'accept each Heart,
That gladly would
Helpe, if it could.
Meane while, let mee,
Beneath this Tree,
This Honour have,
To make my grave.

To his Saviours Sepulcher: his Devotion.

HAile holy, and all-honour'd Tomb,
By no ill haunted; here I come,
With ſhoes put off, to tread thy Roome.
I'le not prophane, by ſoile of ſin,
Thy Doore, as I do enter in:
For I have waſht both hand and heart,
This, that, and ev'ry other part;
So that I dare, with farre leſſe feare,
Then full affection, enter here.
Thus, thus I come to kiſſe Thy Stone
With a warm lip, and ſolemne one:
And as I kiſſe, I'le here and there
Dreſſe Thee with flowrie Diaper.
How ſweet this place is! as from hence
Flow'd all Panchaia's Frankincenſe;
Or rich Arabia did commix,
Here, all her rare Aromaticks.
Let me live ever here, and ſtir
No one ſtep from this Sepulcher.
Raviſht I am! and down I lie,
Confus'd, in this brave Extaſie.
Here let me reſt; and let me have
This for my Heaven, that was Thy Grave:
And, coveting no higher ſphere,
I'le my Eternitie ſpend here.

His Offering, with the reſt, at the Sepulcher.

TO joyn with them, who here confer
Gifts to my Saviours Sepulcher;
Devotion bids me hither being
Somwhat for my Thank-Offering.
Loe! Thus I give a Virgin-Flower,
To dreſſe my Maiden-Saviour.

His coming to the Sepulcher.

HEnce they have born my Lord: Behold! the Stone
Is rowl'd away; and my ſweet Saviour's gone!
Tell me, white Angell; what is now become
Of Him, we lately ſeal'd up in this Tombe?
Is He, from hence, gone to the ſhades beneath,
To vanquiſh Hell, as here He conquer'd Death?
If ſo; I'le thither follow, without feare;
And live in Hell, if that my Chriſt ſtayes there.
OF all the good things whatſoe're we do,
God is the ΑΡΧΗ, and the ΤΕΛΟΣ too.

About this transcription

TextHis noble numbers, or, His pious pieces vvherein (amongst other things) he sings the birth of his Christ : and sighes for his Saviours suffering on the crosse.
AuthorHerrick, Robert, 1591-1674..
Extent Approx. 102 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 41 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images.
SeriesEarly English books online.
Additional notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A86259)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 170728)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 162:E1090[1])

About the source text

Bibliographic informationHis noble numbers, or, His pious pieces vvherein (amongst other things) he sings the birth of his Christ : and sighes for his Saviours suffering on the crosse. Herrick, Robert, 1591-1674.. [2], 79, [1] p. Printed for John Williams, and Francis Eglesfield,London :1647.. (Bound with 'Hesperides'.) (Reproduction of the original in the British Library.)

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  • Text Creation Partnership,
ImprintAnn Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2012-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2).
  • DLPS A86259
  • STC Wing H1597
  • STC Thomason E1090_1
  • EEBO-CITATION 99871984
  • PROQUEST 99871984
  • VID 170728

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