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Who did so sweetly Death's sad taste convey,
Making my minde to smell my fatall day,
Yet sugring the suspicion.

Farewell, deare flow'rs; sweetly your time ye spent,
Fit while ye lived for smell or ornament,

And after death for cures.

I follow straight, without complaints or grief;

Since if my scent be good, I care not if

It be as short as yours.

68.SUBMISSION.

But that Thou art my wisdome, Lord,
And both mine eyes are Thine,

My minde would be extreamly stirr'd

For missing my designe.

Were it not better to bestow

Some place and power on me?

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Then should Thy praises with me grow,

But when I thus dispute and grieve,

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And share in my degree.

I do resume my fight;

And pilfring what I once did give,

Disseize Thee of Thy right.

How know I, if Thou shouldst me raise,

That I should then raise Thee?

Perhaps great places and Thy praise
Do not so well agree.

dispossess

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Wherefore unto my gift I stand,

I will no more advise;

Onely do Thou lend me a hand,
Since Thou hast both mine eyes.

69.JUSTICE.

I cannot skill of these Thy wayes:

= consider

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Lord, Thou didst make me, yet Thou woundest me; Lord, Thou dost wound me, yet Thou dost relieve me ; Lord, Thou relievest, yet I die by Thee;

Lord, Thou dost kill me, yet Thou dost reprieve me. 5

But when I mark my life and praise,
Thy justice me most fitly payes;

For I do praise Thee, yet I praise Thee not;
My prayers mean Thee, yet my prayers stray;
I would do well, yet sinne the hand hath got;
My soul doth love Thee, yet it loves delay;
I cannot skill of these my ways.

70. ¶ CHARMS AND KNOTS.

Who reade a chapter when they rise,
Shall ne'ere be troubled with ill eyes.

IO

A poor man's rod, when Thou dost ride,
Is both a weapon and a guide.

Who shuts his hand hath lost his gold;

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Who opens it hath it twice-told.

Who goes to bed and doth not pray

Maketh two nights to ev'ry day.

Who by aspersions throw a stone
At th' head of others hit their own.

Who looks on ground with humble eyes
Findes himself there, and seeks to rise.

When th' hair is sweet through pride or lust,

The powder doth forget the dust.

Take one from ten, and what remains?
Ten still, if sermons go for gains.

In shallow waters heav'n doth show;
But who drinks on, to hell may go.

ΙΟ

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71. AFFLICTION.

My God, I read this day

That planted Paradise was not so firm

As was and is Thy floting Ark, whose stay
And anchor Thou art onely, to confirm

And strengthen it in ev'ry age,

When waves do rise and tempests rage.

At first we liv'd in pleasure,

Thine own delights Thou didst to us impart;
When we grew wanton, Thou didst use displeasure

To make us Thine; yet that we might not part,
As we at first did board with Thee,
Now Thou wouldst taste our miserie.

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ΙΟ

There is but joy and grief:

If either will convert us, we are Thine;
Some angels us'd the first; if our relief
Take up the second, then Thy double line

And sev'rall baits in either kinde

Furnish Thy table to Thy minde.

Affliction, then, is ours;

at the Nativity

We are the trees, whom shaking fastens more;

While blustring windes destroy the wanton bowres, And ruffle all their curious knots and store.

My God, so temper joy and wo

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[stakes

That Thy bright beams may tame Thy Bow.

72.¶MORTIFICATION.

How soon doth man decay!

When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets

To swaddle infants, whose young breath.
Scarce knows the way,

Those clouts are little winding-sheets,

Which do consign and send them unto Death.

When boyes go first to bed,

They step into their voluntarie graves;

Sleep binds them fast, onely their breath

Makes them not dead :

Successive nights, like rolling waves,

Convey them quickly who are bound for Death.

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ΤΟ

When Youth is frank and free,

And calls for musick, while his veins do swell,

All day exchanging mirth and breath

In companie,

That musick summons to the knell

Which shall befriend him at the house of Death.

When Man grows staid and wise,

Getting a house and home, where he may move

Within the circle of his breath,

Schooling his eyes,

That dumbe inclosure maketh love

Unto the coffin that attends his death.

When Age grows low and weak,

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Marking his grave, and thawing ev'ry year,
Till all do melt and drown his breath

When he would speak,

A chair or litter shows the biere

Which shall convey him to the house of Death.

Man, ere he is aware,

Hath put together a solemnitie,

And drest his hearse, while he has breath

As yet to spare;

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Yet, Lord, instruct us so to die,

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That all these dyings may be LIFE in death.

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