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Nor would it trouble me to see it found

Of

any fashion,

That can be thought upon, Square, oval, many-angled, long, or round :

If close it be, Fix'd, open, moveable, all's one to me.

And yet, methinks, at a Communion

In uniformity

There's greatest decency, And that which maketh most for union :

But needlessly To vary,

tends to the breach of charity.

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Yet, rather than I'll give, I will not take

Offence, if it be given,

So that I be not driven
To thwart authority, a party make

For faction,
Or side, but seemingly, in the action.

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At a Communion I wish I might

Have no cause to suspect

Any, the least, defect Of unity and peace, either in sight

,

Apparently,
Or in men's hearts concealed secretly.

That, which ordained is to make men one,

More than before they were,

Should not itself appear, Though but appear, distinctly diverse. None

Too much can see Of what, when most, yet but enough can be.

If others will dissent, and vary, who

,
Can help it? If I may, ,

As hath been done alway,
By the best, and most ; I will myself do so.

Of one accord
The servants should be of one God, one Lord.

COMMUNION PLATE.

NEVER was gold, or silver, graced thus

Before.
To bring this body, and this blood, to us

Is more
Than to crown Kings,

Or be made rings,
For star-like diamonds to glitter in.

No precious stones are meet to match this bread

Divine.
Spirits of pearls dissolved would but dead

This wine.
This heavenly food

Is too too good
To be compared to any earthly thing.

For such inestimable treasure can

There be
Vessels too costly made by any man ?

Sure he
That knows the meat

So good to eat,
Would wish to see it richly served in.

Although 'tis true, that sanctity's not tied

To state,
Yet sure Religion should not be envied

The fate
Of meaner worth,

To be set forth
As best becomes the service of a King.

A King unto whose cross all Kings must vail

Their crowns,
And at his beck in their full course strike sail :

Whose frowns
And smiles give date

Unto their fate,
And doom them, either unto weal, or woe.

A King, whose will is justice : and whose word

Is

power, And wisdom both. A King, whom to afford

An hour
Of service truly

Perform'd, and duly,
Is to bespeak eternity of bliss.

When such a King offers to come to me

As food,
Shall I suppose his carriages can be

Too good ?
No: Stars to gold

Turn'd, never could
Be rich enough to be employ'd so.

If I might wish then, I would have this bread,

This wine,

Vessell’d in what the Sun might blush to shed

His shine,
When he should see :

But, till that be,
I'll rest contented with it, as it is.

CHURCH-OFFICERS.

Stay. Officers in Church? Take heed: it is

A tender matter to be touch’d. If I chance to say any thing amiss,

Which is not fit to be avouch'd, I must expect whole swarms of wasps to sting me, Few, or no bees, honey or wax, to bring me.

Some would have none in Church do any thing

As Officers, but gifted men ;
Others into the number more would bring,

Than I see warrant for: So then,
All that I say, 'tis like, will censured be,
Through prejudice, or partiality.

They but

But 'tis no matter ; If men censure me,

my

fellow-servants are : Our Lord allows us all like liberty.

I write, mine own thoughts to declare, Not to please men : and, if I displease any, I will not care, so they be of the Many.

THE SEXTON.

The Church's key-keeper opens the door,

And shuts it, sweeps the floor,
Rings bells, digs graves, and fills them up again ;

All Emblems unto men,
Openly owning Christianity,
To mark, and learn many good lessons by.

O thou that hast the key of David, who

Open’st and shuttest so,
That none can shut or open after thee,

Vouchsafe thyself to be
Our soul's door-keeper, by thy blessed Spirit :
The lock and key's thy mercy, not our merit.

Cleanse thou our sin-soild souls from the dirt and dust

Of every noisome lust,
Brought in by the foul feet of our affections :

The besom of afflictions,
With the blessing of thy Spirit added to it,
If thou be pleased to say it shall, will do it.

Lord, ringing changes all our bells hath marr’d,

Jangled they have, and jarr'd
So long, they're out of tune, and out of frame,

They seem not now the same.
Put them in frame anew, and once begin
To tune them so, that they may chime all in.

Let all our sins be buried in thy grave,

No longer rant and rave,

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