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Oh, what a cunning guest
Closets; and in them many a chest;
And like a master in
No screw, no piercer can Into a piece of timber work and wind,
As God's afflictions into man,
When he a torture hath design’d.
We are the earth ; and they,
2 Like moles within us, heave, and cast about :
And till they foot and clutch their prey,
They never cool, much less give out. No Smith can make such locks, but they have keys; Closets are Halls to them; and hearts, highways.
Only an open breast
Or, if they enter, cannot rest,
But quickly seek some new adventure. Smooth open hearts no fastening have ; but fiction Doth give a hold and handle to affliction.
Wherefore my faults and sins, Lord, I acknowledge ; take thy plagues away :
For since confession pardon wins,
I challenge here the brightest day,
Oh, what a thing is Man! how far from power,
From settled peace and rest ! He is some twenty several men at least
Each several hour.
One while he counts of heaven, as of his treasure :
But then a thought creeps in, And calls him coward, who for fear of sin
Will lose a pleasure.
Now he will fight it out, and to the wars ;
Now eat his bread in peace, And snudge in quiet : now he scorns increase;
Now all day spares.
He builds a house, which quickly down must go,
As if a whirlwind blew And crush'd the building: and 'tis partly true,
His mind is so.
Oh, what a sight were Man, if his attires
Did alter with his mind; And, like a Dolphin's skin, his clothes combined
With his desires !
Surely if each one saw another's heart,
There would be no commerce,
And live apart.
Lord, mend or rather make us : one creation
Will not suffice our turn :
Our own salvation.
THE BUNCH OF GRAPES.
Joy, I did lock thee up: but some bad man
Hath let thee out again : And now, methinks, I am where I began
Seven years ago : one vogue and vein,
One air of thoughts usurps my brain.
For as the Jews of old by God's command
Traveli'd, and saw no town;
Their story pens and sets us down.
A single deed is small renown.
Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds ;
Our Scripture-dew drops fast :
Alas! our murmurings come not last.
Of mine inheritance ? Lord, if I must borrow,
But can he want the grape, who hath the wine ?
I have their fruit, and more. Blessed be God, who prosper'd Noah's vine,
And made it bring forth grapes good store.
But much more Him I must adore,
DEAR friend, sit down, the tale is long and sad :
(I sigh to say)
Yet still ask'd pardon, and was not denied.
you shall hear. After my heart was well, And clean and fair, as I one even-tide
(I sigh to tell) Walk'd by myself abroad, I saw a large
I And spacious furnace flaming, and thereon A boiling caldron, round about whose verge Was in great letters set AFFLICTION. The greatness show'd the owner. So I went To fetch a sacrifice out of my fold, Thinking with that, which I did thus present, To warm his love, which I did fear grew cold. But as my heart did tender it, the man Who was to take it from me, slipt his hand, And threw my heart into the scalding pan; My heart, that brought it (do you understand ?), The offerer's heart. Your heart was hard, I fear. Indeed 'tis true. I found a callous matter Began to spread and to expatiate there : But with a richer drug, than scalding water, I bathed it often, even with holy blood, Which at a board, while many drank bare wine, A friend did steal into my cup for good, Even taken inwardly, and most divine To supple hardnesses. But at the length Out of the caldron getting, soon I fled Unto my house, where to repair the strength Which I had lost, I hasted to my bed : But when I thought to sleep out all these faults,
(I sigh to speak) I found that some had stuff'd the bed with thoughts, I would say thorns. Dear, could my heart not break, When with my pleasures even my rest was gone? Full well I understood, who had been there :