East and West touch, the poles do kisse, And parallels meet. Since, then, my grief must be as large 45 As is Thy space, Thy distance from me; see my charge, Lord, see my case. O take these barres, these lengths away; Turn, and restore me : 'Be not Almightie,' let me say, 'Against, but for me.' When Thou dost turn, and wilt be neare, What edge so keen, What point so piercing can appeare To come between? 50 55 For as Thy absence doth excell All distance known, So doth Thy nearnesse bear the bell, O, who will give me tears? Come, all ye springs, Dwell in my head and eyes; come, clouds and rain; For my rough sorrows; cease, be dumbe and mute, 5 ΤΟ 15 131. THE CROSSE. What is this strange and uncouth thing, To make me sigh, and seek, and faint, and die, Untill I had some place where I might sing And serve Thee; and not onely I, But all my wealth and familie might combine And then, when, after much delay, Much wrestling, many a combate, this deare end, So much desir'd, is giv'n; to take away My power to serve Thee; to unbend All my abilities, my designes confound, And lay my threatnings bleeding on the ground. One ague dwelleth in my bones, Another in my soul,-the memorie 5 10 Could be allow'd for harmonie ; What I would do for Thee, if once my grones 15 I am in all a weak disabled thing, Save in the sight thereof, where strength doth sting. Besides, things sort not to my will Ev'n when my will doth studie Thy renown: So that, ev'n when my hopes seem to be sped, 20 To have my aim, and yet to be Farther from it then when I bent my bow; To make my hopes my torture, and the fee Of all my woes another wo, Is in the midst of delicates to need, And ev'n in Paradise to be a weed. Ah, my deare Father, ease my smart! These contrarieties crush me; these crosse actions 25 30 And yet since these Thy contradictions. Doe winde a rope about, and cut my heart: Are properly a crosse felt by Thy Sonne 35 With but foure words, my words, 'Thy will be done!' 132. THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing. Who would have thought my shrivel'd heart All the hard weather, Dead to the world, keep house unknown. 5 ΙΟ These are Thy wonders, Lord of power, Killing and quickning, bringing down to Hell And up to Heaven in an houre; Making a chiming of a passing-bell. We say amisse This or that is; Thy word is all, if we could spell. O that I once past changing were, 15 20 interpret Fast in Thy Paradise, where no flower can wither! Many a Spring I shoot up fair, Offring at Heav'n, growing and groning thither; 25 Nor doth my flower Want a Spring-showre, My sinnes and I joyning together. But while I grow in a straight line, Still upwards bent, as if Heav'n were mine own, 30 What frost to that? what pole is not the zone I once more smell the dew and rain, And relish versing: O, my onely Light, It cannot be That I am he On whom Thy tempests fell all night. 40 |