What open force, or hidden CHARM Inclose me still for fear I START. When thou dost greater judgments SPARE, And with thy knife but prune and PARE, E'en fruitful trees more fruitful ARE. Such sharpness shows the sweetest FRIEND: Such cuttings rather heal than REND: And such beginnings touch their END. CV. THE METHOD. POOR heart, lament. Thy Father could Quickly effect, what thou dost move; Go search this thing, Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book: Wouldst thou not look? What do I see Written above there? Yesterday And should God's ear To such indifferents chained be, But stay! what's there? Yet I went on. And should God's ear, Which needs not man, be tied to those Then once more pray: Down with thy knees, up with thy voice: CVI. 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 O dark instructions, e'en as dark as day! But he doth bid us take his blood for wine. Then burn thy Epicycles, foolish man; [pray. Break all thy spheres, and save thy head; Faith needs no staff of flesh, but stoutly can To Heaven alone both go, and lead. CVII. EPHES. IV. 30. GRIEVE NOT THE HOLY SPIRIT, ETC. AND art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove, And cross thy love? Grieved for me? the God of strength and power Grieved for a worm, which when I tread, Then weep, mine eyes, the God of love doth grieve: Weep foolish heart, And weeping live; For death is dry as dust. Yet if ye part, End as the night, whose sable hue Your sins express; melt into dew. When saucy mirth shall knock or call at door, Or cry no more. Almighty God doth grieve, he puts on sense: But to my God's too; he doth groan. Oh take thy lute, and tune it to a strain, 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, E'en endless tears Without relief. If a clear spring for me no time forbears, I am no Crystal, what shall I? Yet if I wail not still, since still to wail And flesh would fail, If my deserts were masters of mine eyes: CVIII. 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," Turn out these wranglers, which defile thy seat: First Peace and Silence all disputes control, And giving all things their set forms and hours, |