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Of what unmeasurable love
Art thou possest, who, when thou couldst not die,
Since then these three wait on thy throne,
Wealth, fame, endowments, virtues, all should go;
My God, if writings may
Convey a lordship any way
On it my heart doth bleed
As many lines, as there doth need To pass itself and all it hath to thee. To which I do agree,
And here present it as my special deed.
If that hereafter Pleasure
Cavil, and claim her part and measure,
As if this passed with a reservation,
Or some such words in fashion ;
I here exclude the wrangler from thy treasure.
O let thy sacred will
All thy delight in me fulfil!
Let me not think an action mine own way,
Resigning up the rudder to thy skill.
Lord, what is man to thee,
That thou shouldst mind a rotten tree? Yet since thou canst not choose but see my actions; So great are thy perfections,
Thou may'st as well my actions guide, as see.
Besides, thy death and blood
Show'd a strange love to all our good: Thy sorrows were in earnest; no faint proffer, Or superficial offer
Of what we might not take, or be withstood.
Wherefore I all forego :
To one word only I say, No:
Lord, let it now by way of purchase go.
He that will pass his land,
As I have mine, may set his hand
How happy were my part,
If some kind man would thrust his heart Into these lines; till in Heaven's court of rolls They were by winged souls
Enter'd for both, far above their desert!
PEACE, prattler, do not lour:
Not a fair look, but thou dost call it foul:
By listening to thy chatting fears
Prattler, no more, I say:
My thoughts must work, but like a noiseless sphere.
If thou persistest, I will tell thee,
And the receipt shall be
My Saviour's blood: whenever at his board
No, not a tooth or nail to scratch,
Yet if thou talkest still,
Besides my physic, know there's some for thee:
The bloody cross of my dear Lord
LORD, with what glory wast thou served of old,
The wood was all embellished
With flowers and carvings, mystical and rare :
Yet all this glory, all this pomp and state,
Did not affect thee much, was not thy aim; Something there was that sow'd debate :
Wherefore thou quitt'st thy ancient claim : And now thy Architecture meets with sin; For all thy frame and fabric is within.
There thou art struggling with a peevish heart,
Great God doth fight, he doth submit.
All Solomon's sea of brass and world of stone
And truly brass and stones are heavy things,
And all their motions upward be;
And ever as they mount, like larks they sing:
COME, Lord, my head doth burn, my heart is sick,
Thy long deferrings wound me to the quick,
Or take me up to thee!
How canst thou stay, considering the pace
The blood did make, which thou didst waste? When I behold it trickling down thy face, I never saw thing make such haste. O show thyself, &c.
When man was lost, thy pity look'd about,
O show thyself, &c.
There lay thy Son: and must he leave that nest,
Thraldom from those, who would not at a feast
He did, he came : O my Redeemer dear,
So many years baptized, and not appear;