84. THE DAWNING.

Awake, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns;
Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth;
Unfold thy forehead, gather'd into frowns;
Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth:
Awake, awake,

And with a thankfull heart His comforts take.
But thou dost still lament, and pine, and crie,
And feel His death, but not His victorie.

Arise, sad heart; if thou dost not withstand,

Christ's resurrection thine may be;

Do not by hanging down break from the hand
Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee:

Arise, arise,

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And with His buriall-linen drie thine eyes.

[grief

Christ left His grave-clothes, that we might, when
Draws tears or bloud, not want an handkerchief.

85. ¶ JESU.

Jesu is in my heart, His sacred name

Is deeply carved there: but th' other week

A great affliction broke the little frame

Ev'n all to pieces; which I went to seek:

And first I found the corner where was J,
After where ES, and next where U was grav'd.
When I had got these parcels, instantly
I sat me down to spell them, and perceiv'd
That to my broken heart he was I ease you,
And to my whole is JESU.

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Canst be idle canst thou play,

Foolish soul, who sinn'd to day?

Rivers run, and springs each one
Know their home, and get them gone :
Hast thou tears, or hast thou none?
If, poore soul, thou hast no tears,
Would thou hadst no faults or fears!
Who hath these, those, ill forbears.
Windes still work-it is their plot,
Be the season cold or hot :

Hast thou sighs, or hast thou not?
If thou hast no sighs or grones,
Would thou hadst no flesh and bones!
Lesser pains scape greater ones.

But if yet thou idle be,

Foolish soul, Who died for thee?

Who did leave His Father's throne

To assume thy flesh and bone?

Had He life, or had He none?

If He had not liv'd for thee,
Thou hadst died most wretchedly,
And two deaths had been thy fee.

He so farre thy good did plot,
That His own self He forgot:
Did He die, or did He not?

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Brings thy Saviour's death no gain?
Who in heart not ever kneels
Neither sinne nor Saviour feels.

87.¶DIALOGUE.

MAN.

Sweetest Saviour, if my soul

Were but worth the having,

Quickly should I then controll

Any thought of waving. But when all my care and pains Cannot give the name of gains To Thy wretch so full of stains, What delight or hope remains?

SAVIOUR.

What, childe, is the ballance thine,

Thine the poise and measure?

VOL. I.

If I say, 'Thou shalt be Mine,'
Finger not My treasure.
What the gains in having thee

Do amount to, onely He

Who for man was sold can see;
That transferr'd th' accounts to Me.

Why do I languish thus, drooping and dull,

As if I were all earth?

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O, give me quicknesse, that I may with mirth.
Praise Thee brim-full!

The wanton lover in a curious strain

Can praise his fair_st fair,

And with quaint metaphors her curled hair
Curl o're again.

Thou art my lovelinesse, my life, my light,

Beautie alone to me;

Thy bloudy death, and undeserv'd, makes Thee

Pure red and white.

When all perfections as but one appeare,

The very

That those Thy form doth shew, dust where Thou dost tread and go Makes beauties here.

Where are my lines, then my approaches, views ?

Where are my window-songs?

Lovers are still pretending, and ev'n wrongs

Sharpen their Muse.

But I am lost in flesh, whose sugred lyes

Still mock me and grow bold:

Sure Thou didst put a minde there, if I could
Finde where it lies.

Lord, cleare Thy gift, that with a constant wit

I

may but look towards Thee:

Look onely; for to love Thee who can be,

What angel fit?

life

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