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I did; and going did a rainbow note:

Surely, thought I,

This is the lace of Peace's coat;

I will search out the matter.

But while I lookt, the clouds immediately

Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden, and did spy

A gallant flower,

The Crown Imperiall. Sure, said I,

Peace at the root must dwell.

But when I digg'd, I saw a worme devoure

What show'd so well.

At length I met a rev'rend good old man,

Whom when for Peace

I did demand he thus began:

'There was a Prince of old

At Salem dwelt, Who liv'd with good increase

Of flock and fold.

He sweetly liv'd; yet sweetnesse did not save
His life from foes.

But after death out of His grave

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat; Which many wond'ring at, got some of those

To plant and set.

It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse

Through all the earth;

For they that taste it do rehearse

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the

[Apostles

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That vertue lies therein;

A secret vertue, bringing peace and mirth

By flight of sinne.

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you;

Make bread of it; and that repose

And peace, which ev'ry where

With so much earnestnesse you do

Is onely there.'

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pursue,

96. CONFESSION.

O, what a cunning guest

Is this same grief! within my heart I made
Closets, and in them many a chest;

And like a master in my trade,

In those chests, boxes; in each box a till.
Yet Grief knows all, and enters when he will.

No scrue, no piercer can

Into a piece of timber worke and winde

As God's affections into man,

When He a torture hath design'd;

They are too subtill for the subt❜llest hearts,
And fall like rheumes upon the tendrest parts.
We are the earth; and they,

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Like moles within us, heave and cast about;

And till they foot and clutch their prey,
They never cool, much lesse give out.

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No smith can make such locks but they have keyes ; Closets are halls to them, and hearts high-wayes.

Onely an open breast

Doth shut them out, so that they cannot enter;

Or if they enter, cannot rest,

But quickly seek some new adventure : Smooth open hearts no fastning have; but fiction Doth give a hold and handle to affliction.

Wherefore my faults and sinnes,

Lord, I acknowledge; take Thy plagues away:
For since confession pardon winnes,
I challenge here the brightest day,
The clearest diamond; let them do their best,
They shall be thick and cloudie to my breast.

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Oh, what a thing is man! how farre from power,

From settled peace and rest!

He is some twentie sev'rall men at least

Each sev'rall houre.

One while he counts of heav'n, as of his treasure;

But then a thought creeps in,

And calls him coward, who for fear of sinne

Will lose a pleasure.

Now he will fight it out, and to the warres;
Now eat his bread in peace,

And snudge in quiet; now he scorns increase,
Now all day spares.

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He builds a house, which quickly down must go,
As if a whirlwinde blew

And crusht the building; and it's partly true

His minde is so.

O, what a sight were man, if his attires

Did alter with his minde,

And, like a dolphin's skinne, his clothes combin'd

With his desires!

Surely if each one saw another's heart,

There would be no commerce,

No sale or bargain passe; all would disperse
And live apart.

Lord, mend, or rather make us; one creation
Will not suffice our turn:

Except Thou make us dayly, we shall spurn
Our own salvation.

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98. THE BUNCH OF GRAPES.

Joy, I did lock thee up, but some bad man
Hath let thee out again;

And now, methinks, I am where I began
Sev'n years ago: one vogue and vein,
One aire of thoughts usurps my brain.

I did toward Canaan draw, but now I am
Brought back to the Red Sea, the sea of shame.

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For as the Jews of old by God's command

Travell'd and saw no town,

So now each Christian hath his journeys spann'd; 10 Their storie pennes and sets us down.

A single deed is small renown;

God's works are wide, and let in future times;
His ancient justice overflows our crimes.

Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds,
Our Scripture-dew drops fast;

We have sands and serpents, tents and shrowds;
Alas, our murmurings come not last!

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But where's the cluster? where's the taste
Of mine inheritance? Lord, if I must borrow, Num. xiii. 23
Let me as well take up their joy as sorrow.

But can he want the grape who hath the wine?
I have their fruit and more.

Blessed be God, Who prosper'd Noah's vine,

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And made it bring forth grapes, good store: 25
But much more Him I must adore

Who of the Law's sowre juice sweet wine did make,
Ev'n God Himself being pressèd for my sake.

99.¶LOVE-UNKNOWN.

Deare friend, sit down; the tale is long and sad;

And in my faintings I presume your love

Will more complie then help :-a Lord I had,

And have, of Whom some grounds, which may improve,

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