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BROKEN in pieces all asunder,
Lord, hunt me not,
A thing forgot,
A wonder tortured in the space
My thoughts are all a case of knives,
Wounding my heart
With scatter'd smart;
Nothing their fury can control,
All my attendants are at strife,
Quitting their place
Unto my face :
The elements are let loose to fight,
Oh, help, my God! let not their plot
Kill them and me,
And also thee,
As the sun scatters by his light
Then shall those powers, which work for grief,
Enter thy pay,
Labour thy praise and my relief ;
With care and courage building me,
My God, I heard this day,
But he that means to dwell therein.
What house more stately hath there been, Or can be, than is Man? to whose creation
All things are in decay.
For Man is every thing, And more : He is a tree, yet bears no fruit ;
A beast, yet is, or should be more :
Reason and speech we only bring.
They go upon the score.
Man is all symmetry,
And all to all the world besides :
Each part may call the farthest, brother : For head with foot hath private amity,
And both with moons and tides.
Nothing hath got so far, But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey
His eyes dismount the highest star
He is in little all the sphere. Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they
Find their acquaintance there.
For us the winds do blow; The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow.
Nothing we see, but means our good,
As our delight, or as our treasure :
Or cabinet of pleasure.
The stars have us to bed ;
Music and light attend our head.
All things unto our flesh are kind
In their ascent and cause.
Each thing is full of duty : Waters united, are our navigation ;
Distinguished,1 our habitation ;
Below, our drink; above, our meat :
Then how are all things neat!
More servants wait on Man, Than he'll take notice of: in every path
He treads down that which doth befriend him,
When sickness makes him pale and wan.
Another to attend him.
Since then, my God, thou hast So brave a Palace built ; 0 dwell in it,
That it may dwell with thee at last!
Till then, afford us so much wit,
And both thy servants be.
CHOR. PRAISED be the God of love,
MEN. Here below,
CHOR. Who hath dealt his mercies so,
Ang. To his friend,
CHOR. That both grace and glory tend
Ang. Us of old,
CHOR. The great Shepherd of the fold
Ang. Us did make,
CHOR. He our foes in pieces brake :
Ang. Him we touch ;
CHOR. Wherefore since that he is such,
Ang. We adore,
CHOR. Lord, thy praises shall be more.
MEN. We have none,
CHOR. Praised be the God alone
Who hath made of two folds one. UNKINDNESS.
LORD, make me coy and tender to offend :
Which I intend,
friend's intent and end. I would not use a friend, as I use Thee.
If any touch
friend, or his good name, It is my honour and my love to free
His blasted fame From the least spot or thought of blame. I could not use a friend, as I use Thee.
My friend may spit upon my curious floor:
, And thou within them, starve at door. I cannot use a friend, as I use Thee.
But let the poor,
When that my friend pretendeth to a place,
But when thy grace
Yet can a friend what Thou hast done fulfil ?
His blood did spill,