That they 'gan cast their state how to increase
Above the fortune of their first condition,
And sit in God's own seat without commission:
The brightest angel, even the child of light,
Drew millions more against their God to fight.
The Almighty, seeing their so bold assay,
Kindled the flame of his consuming ire,
And with his onely breath them blew away
From heaven's hight, to which they did aspire,
To deepest hell, and lake of damned fire,
Where they in darknesse and dread horror dwell,
Hating the happie light from which they fell.
So that next offspring of the Maker's love,
Next to himself in glorious degree,
Degenering to hate, fell from above
Through pride, (for pride and love may ill agree,)
And now of sin to all ensample bee:
How then can sinful flesh itself assure,
Sith purest angels fell to be impure?
But that Eternall Fount of love and grace,
Still flowing forth his goodnesse unto all,
Now seeing left a waste and emptie place
In his wide palace, through those angels' fall,
Cast to supply the same, and to enstall
A new unknowen colony therein,
Whose root from earth's base ground-worke should begin.
Therefore of clay, base, vile, and next to nought, Yet form'd by wondrous skill, and by his might, According to an heavenly patterne wrought,
Which he had fashion'd in his wise foresight,
He man did make, and breathed a living spright
Into his face, most beautifull and faire,
Endew'd with wisdome's riches, heavenly rare.
Such he him made, that he resemble might
Himselfe, as mortall thing immortall could;
Him to be lord of every living wight
He made by love out of his owne like mould,
In whom he might his mightie selfe behould;
For love doth love the thing belov'd to see,
That like itselfe in lovely shape may bee.
But man, forgetfull of his Maker's grace,
No lesse than angels, whom he did ensew,'
Fell from the hope of promist heavenly place,
Into the mouth of Death, to sinners dew,
And all his off-spring into thraldome threw,
Where they for ever should in bonds remaine,
Of never-dead yet ever-dying paine.
Till that great Lord of Love, which him at first
Made of meere love, and after liked well,
Seeing him lie like creature long accurst
In that deep horror of despeired hell,
Him, wretch, in dole would let no longer dwell,
But cast out of that bondage to redeeme,
And pay the price, all were his debt extreeme.
Out of the bosome of eternall blisse,
In which he reigned with his glorious sire,
He downe descended, like a most demisse
And abject thrall, in fleshe's fraile attire,
That he for him might pay sinne's deadly hire,
And him restore unto that happie state
In which he stood before his haplesse fate.
In flesh at first the guilt committed was,
Therefore in flesh it must be satisfide;
Nor spirit, nor angel, though they man surpass,
Could make amends to God for man's misguide
But onely man himselfe, who selfe did slide:
So, taking flesh of sacred virgin's wombe,
For man's deare sake he did a man become.
And that most blessed bodie which was borne
Without all blemish or reprochfull blame,
He freely gave to be both rent and torne
Of cruell hands, who with despightfull shame
Reviling him, that them most vile became,
At length him nailed on a gallow-tree,
And slew the just by most unjust decree.
O huge and most unspeakable impression
Of Love's deep wound, that pierst the piteous heart
Of that dear Lord with so entire affection,
And sharply launcing every inner part,
Dolours of death into his soul did dart,
Doing him die that never it deserved,
To free his foes that from his heart had swerved!
What heart can feel least touch of so sore launch, Or thought can think the depth of so deep wound? Whose bleeding source their streams yet never staunch,
But still do flow, and freshly still redound,
To heal the sores of sinful souls unsound,
And cleanse the guilt of that infected crime
Which was enrooted in all fleshly slime.
O blessed Well of Love! O Floure of Grace!
O glorious Morning-Starre! O Lampe of Light!
Most lively image of thy Father's face,
Eternal King of Glorie, Lord of Might,
Meeke Lambe of God, before all worlds behight,'
How can we thee requite for all this good?
Or what can prize that thy most precious blood?
Yet nought thou ask'st in lieu of all this love,
But love of us, for guerdon of thy paine:
Ay me! what can us lesse than that behove?
Had he required life of us againe,
Had it beene wrong to ask his owne with gaine?
He gave us life, he it restored lost;
Then life were least, that us so little cost.
But he our life hath left unto us free,
Free that was thrall, and blessed that was ban'd;'
Ne ought demaunds but that we loving bee,
As he himselfe hath loved us afore-hand,
And bound thereto with an eternall band,
Him first to love that was so dearely bought,
And next our brethren, to his image wrought.
Him first to love great right and reason is,
Who first to us our life and being gave,
And after, when we fared had amiss,
Us wretches from the second death did save;
And last, the food of life, which now we have,
Even he himself, in his dear sacrament,
To feed our hungry souls, unto us lent.
Then next, to love our brethren, that were
Of that self mould, and that self Maker's hand
That we, and to the same again shall fade,
Where they shall have like heritage of land,
However here on higher steps we stand,
Which also were with self-same price redeemed
That we, however of us light esteemed.
And were they not, yet sith that loving Lord
Commanded us to love them for his sake,
Even for his sake, and for his sacred word,
Which in his last bequest he to us spake,
We should them love, and with their needs par
Knowing that whatsoe'er to them we give,
We give to him by whom we all do live.
Such mercy he by his most holy reed'
Unto us taught, and, to approve it true,
Ensampled it by his most righteous deed,
Shewing us mercy (miserable crew!)
That we the like should to the wretches shew,
And love our brethren, thereby to approve
How much himself that loved us we love.
Then rouze thyself, O earth! out of thy soil,
In which thou wallow'st like to filthy swine,
And dost thy mind in dirty pleasures moyl,
Unmindful of that dearest Lord of thine;
Lift up to him thy heavy-clouded eyne,
That thou this soveraine bounty maist behold,
And read through love his mercies manifold.
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