I looked on thy furniture so fine,

And made it fine to me;

Thy glorious household-stuff did me entwine,
And 'tice me unto thee.

Such stars I counted mine: both heaven and earth Paid me my wages in a world of mirth.

What pleasures could I want, whose King I served,
Where joys my fellows were?

Thus argued into hopes, my thoughts reserved
No place for grief or fear;

Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place,
And made her youth and fierceness seek thy face:

At first thou gavest me milk and sweetnesses;
I had my wish and way:

My days were strew'd with flowers and happiness;
There was no month but May.

But with my years sorrow did twist and grow,
And made a party unawares for woe.

My flesh began unto my soul in pain,

Sicknesses clave my bones, Consuming agues dwell in every vein,

And tune my breath to groans: Sorrow was all my soul; I scarce believed, Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived.

When I got health, thou took'st away my life,
And more; for my friends die:
My mirth and edge was lost; a blunted knife
Was of more use than I.

Thus thin and lean without a fence or friend,

I was blown through with every storm and wind.

Whereas my

birth and spirit rather took

The way that takes the town;

Thou didst betray me to a lingering book,
And wrap me in a gown.

I was entangled in the world of strife,
Before I had the power to change my life.

Yet, for I threaten'd oft the siege to raise,
Not simpering all mine age,

Thou often didst with Academic praise

Melt and dissolve my rage.

I took thy sweeten'd pill, till I came near;
I could not go away, nor persevere.

Yet lest perchance I should too happy be
In my unhappiness,

Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me
Into more sicknesses.

Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making
Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking.

Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me

None of my books will show: I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree; For sure then I should grow

To fruit or shade: at least some bird would trust Her household to me, and I should be just.

Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek;
In weakness must be stout.

Well, I will change the service, and go seek
Some other master out.

Ah, my dear God! though I am clean forgot,
Let me not love thee, if I love thee not.

XIX. REPENTANCE.

LORD, I confess my sin is great;
Great is my sin. Oh! gently treat
With thy quick flower, thy momentany bloom;
Whose life still pressing

Is one undressing,

A steady aiming at a tomb.

Man's age is two hours' work, or three;
Each day doth round about us see.
Thus are we to delights: but we are all

To sorrows old,

If life be told

From what life feeleth, Adam's fall.

O let thy height of mercy then
Compassionate short-breathed men,
Cut me not off for my most foul transgression:
I do confess

My foolishness;

My God, accept of my confession.

Sweeten at length this bitter bowl,

Which thou hast pour'd into my soul;

Thy wormwood turn to health, winds to fair weather:

For if thou stay,

I and this day,

As we did rise, we die together.

When thou for sin rebukest man, Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan: Bitterness fills our bowels; all our hearts

Pine, and decay,

And drop away,

And carry with them the other parts.

But thou wilt sin and grief destroy;
That so the broken bones may joy,

And tune together in a well-set song,

Full of his praises

Who dead men raises.

Fractures well cured make us more strong.

XX. FAITH.

LORD, how couldst thou so much appease Thy wrath for sin, as when man's sight was dim, And could see little, to regard his ease,

And bring by Faith all things to him?

Hungry I was, and had no meat:

I did conceit a most delicious feast;
I had it straight, and did as truly eat,
As ever did a welcome guest.

There is a rare outlandish root, Which when I could not get, I thought it here: That apprehension cured so well my foot, That I can walk to heaven well near.

I owed thousands and much more:
I did believe that I did nothing owe,
And lived accordingly; my creditor
Believes so too, and lets me go.

Faith makes me anything, or all That I believe is in the sacred story: And when sin placeth me in Adam's fall, Faith sets me higher in his glory.

If I go lower in the book,

What can be lower than the common manger? Faith puts me there with him, who sweetly took Our flesh and frailty, death and danger.

If bliss had lien in art or strength,

None but the wise and strong had gain'd it:
Where now by Faith all arms are of a length;
One size doth all conditions fit.

A peasant may believe as much

As a great Clerk, and reach the highest stature. Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend and

While grace fills up uneven nature. [crouch,

When creatures had no real light

Inherent in them, thou didst make the sun,
Impute a lustre, and allow them bright:

And in this shew, what Christ hath done.

That which before was darken'd clean With bushy groves, pricking the looker's eye, Vanish'd away, when Faith did change the scene : And then appear'd a glorious sky.