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No hallow'd oils, no grains I need,
No rags of saints, no purging fire;
One rosy drop from David's Seed

Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire. O precious ransom! which once paid, That consummatum est was said;

And said by Him that said no more,

But seal'd it with his dying breath.Thou, then, that hast dispung'd my score,And dying wast the death of Death, Be to me now, on Thee I call,

My life, my strength, my joy, my all!

(83)

Bishop Hall.

(FROM HIS EPISTLES. SIXTH DECADE: EPISTLE I.)

TO MY LORD DENNY.

A PARTICULAR ACCOUNT HOW OUR DAYS ARE OR SHOULD BE SPENT; BOTH COMMON AND HOLY.

EVERY

VERY day is a little life; and our whole life is but a day repeated: whence it is, that old Jacob numbers his life by days: and Moses desires to be taught this point of holy arithmetic, To number, not his years, but his days. Those, therefore, that dare lose a day, are dangerously prodigal; those that dare mis-spend it, desperate.

We can best teach others by ourselves. Let me tell your Lordship, how I would pass my days, whether common or sacred; that you, or whosoever others overhearing me, may either approve my thriftiness, or correct my errors. To whom is the account of my hours, either more due, or more known?

All days are His, who gave Time a beginning and continuance: yet some he hath made ours; not to command, but to use. In none may we forget Him; in some, we must forget all, besides Him.

First, therefore, I desire to awake at those hours,

not when I will, but when I must:

pleasure is not a fit rule for rest, but health. Neither do I consult so much with the sun, as mine own necessity; whether in body, or, in that, of the mind. If this vassal could well serve me waking, it should never sleep; but now, it must be pleased, that it may be serviceable.

Now, when sleep is rather driven away than leaves me, I would ever awake with God. My first thoughts are for Him, who hath made the night for rest, and the day for travel; and, as he gives, so blesses both. If my heart be early seasoned with His presence, will savour of him all day after.

it

While my body is dressing, not with an effeminate curiosity, nor yet with rude neglect, my mind addresses itself to her ensuing task; bethinking what is to be done, and in what order; and marshalling, as it may, my hours with my work.

That done, after some while meditation, I walk up to my masters and companions, my books; and, sitting down amongst them, with the best contentment, I dare not reach forth my hand to salute any of them, till I have first looked up to heaven; and craved favour of Him, to whom all my studies are duly referred; without whom, I can neither profit, nor labour. After this, out of no over-great variety, I call forth those, which may best fit my occasions; wherein, I am not too scrupulous of age. Sometimes, I put myself to school, to one of those ancients, whom the Church hath honoured with the name of

Fathers; whose volumes I confess not to open, without a secret reverence of their holiness and gravity: sometimes, to those later Doctors, which want nothing but age to make them classical: always to God's Book. That day is lost, whereof some hours are not improved in those Divine Monuments: others, I turn over, out of choice; these, out of duty.

Ere I can have sat unto weariness, my family, having now overcome all household distractions, invites me to our common devotions; not without some short preparation.

These, heartily performed, send me up with a more strong and cheerful appetite to my former work; which I find made easy to me by intermission and variety.

Now, therefore, can I deceive the hours with change of pleasures, that is, of labours. One while, mine eyes are busied; another while, my hand; and, sometimes, my mind takes the burden from them both; wherein I would imitate the skilfullest cooks, which make the best dishes with manifold mixtures. One hour is spent in textual divinity; another, in controversy: histories relieve from both. Now, when the mind is weary of other labours, it begins to undertake her own: sometimes, it meditates and winds up for future use; sometimes, it lays forth her conceits into present discourse; sometimes for itself, often for others. Neither know I, whether it works or plays, in these thoughts: I am sure no sport hath more pleasure; no work more use: only, the decay of a

weak body makes me think these delights insensibly laborious.

Thus could I, all day, as ringers use, make myself music, with changes; and complain sooner of the day for shortness, than of the business for toil; were it not that this faint monitor interrupts me still in the midst of my busy pleasures, and enforces me both to respite and repast. I must yield to both: while my body and mind are joined together in these unequal couples, the better must follow the weaker.

Before my meals, therefore, and after, I let myself loose from all thoughts; and now, would forget that I ever studied. A full mind takes away the body's appetite, no less than a full body makes a dull and unwieldy mind. Company, discourse, recreations, are now seasonable and welcome.

These prepare me for a diet; not gluttonous, but medicinal: the palate may not be pleased, but the stomach; nor that, for its own sake. Neither would I think any of these comforts worth respect, in themselves; but in their use, in their end: so far, as they' may enable me to better things. If I see any dish to tempt my palate, I fear a Serpent in that Apple; and would please myself in a wilful denial.

I rise capable of more; not desirous: not now immediately from my trencher to my book, but after some intermission. Moderate speed is a sure help to all proceedings; where those things which are prosecuted with violence of endeavour or desire, either succeed not, or continue not.

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