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When thou dost greater judgments SPARE, And with thy knife but prune and PARE, Even fruitful trees more fruitful ARE.

Such sharpness shows the sweetest FRIEND : Such cuttings rather heal than REND: And such beginnings touch their END.

THE METHOD.

POOR heart, lament,

For since thy God refuseth still,
There is some rub, some discontent,
Which cools his will.

Thy Father could

Quickly effect, what thou dost move;
For he is Power: and sure he would;
For he is Love.

Go search this thing,

Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book : If thou hadst lost a glove or ring, Wouldst thou not look ?

What do I see

Written above there? Yesterday
I did behave me carelessly,
When I did pray.

And should God's ear

To such indifferents chained be,

Who do not their own motions hear?
Is God less free?

But stay! what's there?

Late when I would have something done,
I had a motion to forbear,
Yet I went on.

And should God's ear,

Which needs not man, be tied to those
Who hear not him, but quickly hear
His utter foes?

Then once more pray:

Down with thy knees, up with thy voice:
Seek pardon first, and God will say,
Glad heart, rejoice.

DIVINITY.

As men, for fear the stars should sleep and nod,
And trip at night, have spheres supplied ;

As if a star were duller than a clod,

Which knows his way without a guide :

Just so the other heaven they also serve,
Divinity's transcendent sky:

Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve.
Reason triumphs, and Faith lies by.

Could not that wisdom, which first broach'd the wine,
Have thicken'd it with definitions?

And jagg'd his seamless coat, had that been fine,
With curious questions and divisions?

But all the doctrine, which he taught and gave,
Was clear as heaven, from whence it came.
At least those beams of truth, which only save,
Surpass in brightness any flame.

Love God, and love your neighbour. Watch and pray.
Do as you would be done unto.

O dark instructions, even as dark as day!
Who can these Gordian knots undo?

But he doth bid us take his blood for wine.
Bid what he please; yet I am sure,
To take and taste what he doth there design,
Is all that saves, and not obscure.

Then burn thy Epicycles, foolish man ;

Break all thy spheres, and save thy head ;

Faith needs no staff of flesh, but stoutly can
To Heaven alone both go, and lead.

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AND art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove,

When I am sour,

And cross thy love?

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

Then

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

And weeping live;

For death is dry as dust. Yet if we part,
End as the night, whose sable hue

Your sins express; melt into dew.

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

Or cry no more.

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

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

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

There can no discord but in ceasing be.

Marbles can weep; and surely strings

More bowels have, than such hard things.

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

Without relief.

If a clear spring for me no time forbears,
But runs, although I be not dry ;
I am no Crystal, what shall I ?

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

And flesh would fail,

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

THE FAMILY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet speak they louder, than distemper'd fears:
What is so shrill as silent tears?

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

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

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