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As they have done, to our eternal shame,

And the scandal of thy name. Let's as door-keepers in thine house attend, Rather than the throne of wickedness ascend.


THE Church's Bible-Clerk attends

Her Utensils, and ends

Her Prayers with Amen;
Tunes Psalms, and to the Sacraments

Brings in the Elements,

And takes them out again ; Is humble-minded, and industrious handed, Doth nothing of himself, but as commanded.

All that the Vessels of the Lord

Do bear with one accord

Must study to be pure,
As they are : if his holy eye

Do any spot espy,

He cannot it endure ;
But most expecteth to be sanctified
In those come nearest him, and glorified.

Psalms then are always tuned best,

When there is most exprest

The holy Penman's heart :
All Music is but discord where

That wants, or doth not bear

The first and chiefest part. Voices, without affections answerable, When best, to God are most abominable.

Though in the blessed Sacraments

The outward Elements

Are but as husks and shells ;
Yet he that knows the kernel's worth,

If even those send forth

Some Aromatic smells, Will not esteem it waste, lest, Judas-like, Through Mary's side he Christ himself should strike.

Lord, without whom we cannot tell

How to speak or think, well,

Lend us thy helping hand,
That what we do may pleasing be,

Not to ourselves but thee,

And answer thy command :
So that, not we alone, but thou may'st say
Amen to all our prayers, pray'd the right way.


The Church's Almoner takes care, that none

In their necessity

Shall unprovided be
Of maintenance, or employment; those alone,

Whom careless Idleness,

Or riotous excess,
Condemns to needless want, he leaves to be
Chasten'd a while by their own poverty.

Thou gracious Lord, rich in thyself, dost give

To all men liberally,

Upbraiding none.
Is open upon all. In thee we live,


Thine eye

We move, and have our being :

But there is more than seeing. For the poor with thee : they are thy special charge ; To them thou dost thine heart and hand enlarge.

Four sorts of poor there are, with whom thou deal’st.

Though always differently,

With such indifferency,
That none hath reason to complain : thou heal’st

All those whom thou dost wound :

If there be any found
Hurt by themselves, thou leavest them to endure
The pain, till the pain render them fit for cure.

Some in the world are poor, but rich in faith :

Their outward poverty

A plentiful supply
Of inward comforts and contentments hath.

And their estate is blest,

In this above the rest,
It was thy choice, whilst thou on earth didst stay,
And hadst not whereupon thy head to lay.

Some poor in spirit in the world are rich,

Although not many such :

And no man needs to grutch Their happiness, who to maintain that pitch,

Have a hard task in hand,

Nor easily can withstand The strong temptations that attend on riches : Mountains are more exposed to storms than ditches.

Some rich in the world are spiritually poor,
And destitute of


Who may perchance have place In the Church upon earth ; but Heaven's door

Too narrow is to admit

Such camels in at it,
Till they sell all they have, that field to buy,
Wherein the true treasure doth hidden lie.

Some spiritually poor, and destitute

Of grace in the world are poor,

Begging from door to door, Accursed both in God's and man's repute,

Till by their miseries

Tutor’d they learn to prize Hungering and thirsting after righteousness, Whilst they're on earth, their greatest happiness.

Lord, make me poor in spirit, and relieve

Me how thou wilt thyself,

No want of worldly pelf
Shall make me discontented, fret and grieve.

I know thine alms are best :

But, above all the rest, Condemn me not unto the hell of riches, Without thy grace to countercharm the witches.


The Church's guardian takes care to keep

Her buildings always in repair, Unwilling that any decay should creep

On them, before he is aware.

Nothing defaced,

Nothing displaced
He likes; but most doth long and love to see
The living stones order'd as they should be.

Lord, thou not only supervisor art

Of all our works, but in all those, Which we dare own, thine is the chiefest part ; For there is none of us, that knows

How to do well ;

Nor can we tell
What we should do, unless by thee directed :
It prospers not that's by ourselves projected.

That which we think ourselves to mend, we mar,

And often make it ten times worse :
Reforming of Religion by war
Is the chymic blessing of a curse.

Great odds it is

That we shall miss
Of what we looked for : Thine ends cannot
By any but by thine own means be got.

'Tis strange we so much dote upon our own

Deformity, and others scorn ;
As if ourselves were beautiful alone;
When that which did us most adorn

We purposely

Choose to lay by Such decency and order, as did place us In highest esteem, and guard as well as grace us.

Is not thy daughter glorious within,

When clothed in needle-work without ?

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