When he would speak; A chair or litter shows the bier Which shall convey him to the house of death. Man, ere he is aware, Hath put together a solemnity, And dress'd his hearse, while he has breath As yet to spare. Yet, Lord, instruct us so to die, That all these dyings may be life in death. DECAY. Sweet were the days, when thou didst lodge with Lot, Advise with Abraham, when thy power could not One might have sought and found thee presently Is my God this way? No, they would reply He is to Sinai gone, as we heard tell : List, ye may hear great Aaron's bell. But now thou dost thyself immure and close I see the world grows old, when as the heat Doth closet up itself, and still retreat, And calling Justice, all things burn. MISERY. LORD, let the Angels praise thy name. Man is a foolish thing, a foolish thing; Folly and Sin play all his game. His house still burns; and yet he still doth sing, Man is but grass, He knows it, fill the glass. How canst thou brook his foolishness ? Than to serve thee in fear. What strange pollutions doth he wed, And make his own? as if none knew, but he. No man shall beat into his head That thou within his curtains drawn canst see: They are of cloth, Where never yet came moth. The best of men, turn but thy hand Though it be small, And measure not their fall. They quarrel thee, and would give over Who would, to be thy foes. My God, Man cannot praise thy name: Thou art all brightness, perfect purity; The Sun holds down his head for shame, Dead with eclipses, when we speak of thee. How shall infection Presume on thy perfection? As dirty hands foul all they touch, And those things most, which are most pure and fine : Or none thy portion is. Man cannot serve thee; let him go These Preachers make His head to shoot and ache. O foolish man! where are thine eyes? Thou must go sleep, or dine. The bird that sees a dainty bower Made in the tree, where she was wont to sit, Wonders and sings, but not his power Who made the arbour: this exceeds her wit. But Man doth know The spring whence all things flow: And yet, as though he knew it not, His knowledge winks, and lets his humours reign: They make his life a constant blot, And all the blood of God to run in vain. Ah, wretch what verse Can thy strange ways rehearse? Indeed at first Man was a treasure, A box of jewels, shop of rarities, A ring, whose posie was, My pleasure: He was a garden in a Paradise: Glory and grace Did crown his heart and face. But sin hath fool'd him. Now he is JORDAN. WHEN first my lines of heavenly joys made mention, Such was their lustre, they did so excel, That I sought out quaint words, and trim invention; My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell, Curling with metaphors a plain intention, Decking the sense, as if it were to sell. Thousands of notions in my brain did run, This was not quick enough, and that was dead. As flames do work and wind, when they ascend; But while I bustled, I might hear a friend PRAYER. Or what an easy quick access, To show that state dislikes not easiness, If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made: Thou canst no more not hear, than thou canst die. Of what supreme Almighty power Is thy great arm which spans the East and West, By it do all things live their measured hour: |