And then what life I have,

While Sinne doth rave,

And falsly boast,

That I may seek, but Thou art lost,

Thou and alone Thou know'st.

O what a deadly cold

Doth me infold!

I half beleeve

That Sinne says true; but while I grieve,

Thou com'st and dost relieve.

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154. THE ELIXIR.

Teach me, my God and King,

In all things Thee to see, And what I do in any thing To do it as for Thee.

Not rudely, as a beast,

To runne into an action ;
But still to make Thee prepossest,

And give it his perfection.

A man that looks on glasse,
On it may stay his eye;

Or if he pleaseth, through it passe,

And then the heav'n espie.
All may of Thee partake:
Nothing can be so mean

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Which with his tincture, 'for Thy sake,'
Will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause

Makes drudgery divine;

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws
Makes that and th' action fine.

This is the famous stone

That turneth all to gold;

For that which God doth touch and own

Cannot for lesse be told.

155. A WREATH.

A wreathed garland of deservèd praise,
Of praise deservèd, unto Thee I give,
I give to Thee, Who knowest all my wayes,
My crooked winding wayes, wherein I live-
Wherein I die, not live; for life is straight,
Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee-
To Thee, Who art more farre above deceit
Then deceit seems above simplicitie.

Give me simplicitie, that I may live;

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So live and like, that I may know Thy wayes; Know them, and practise them; then shall I give, For this poore wreath, give Thee a crown of praise.

156. DEATH.

Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing,
Nothing but bones,

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The sad effect of sadder grones:

Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing.

For we consider'd thee as at some six

Or ten years hence,

After the losse of life and sense;

Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to sticks.
We lookt on this side of thee, shooting short,
Where we did finde

The shells of fledge-souls left behinde;
Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort.

But since our Saviour's death did put some bloud
Into thy face,

Thou art grown fair and full of grace,

Much in request, much sought for, as a good.

For we do now behold thee gay and glad,

As at doom's-day,

When souls shall wear their new aray,

And all thy bones with beautie shall be clad.
Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust
Half that we have

Unto an honest faithfull grave,

Making our pillows either down or dust.

157.DOOM'S-DAY.

Come away,

Make no delay;

Summon all the dust to rise,

Till it stirre and rubbe the eyes ;

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While this member jogs the other,

Each one whispring, 'Live you, brother?'

Come away,

Make this the day.

Dust, alas, no musick feels

But Thy trumpet; then it kneels,

As peculiar notes and strains

Cure tarantulae's raging pains.

Come away,

O make no stay!

Let the graves make their confession,
Lest at length they plead possession:
Fleshe's stubbornnesse may have

Read that lesson to the grave.

Come away,

Thy flock doth stray.

Some to the windes their bodies lend,

And in them may drown a friend;

Some in noisome vapours grow

To a plague and publick wo.

Come away,

Help our decay.

Man is out of order hurl'd,

Parcel'd out to all the world.

Lord, Thy broken comfort raise,

And the musick shall be praise.

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158. JUDGEMENT.

Almightie Judge, how shall poore wretches brook

Thy dreadfull look,

Able a heart of iron to appall,

When Thou shalt call

For ev'ry man's peculiar book?

What others mean to do I know not well;

Yet I heare tell

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That some will turn Thee to some leaves therein
So void of sinne,

That they in merit shall excell.

But I resolve, when Thou shalt call for mine,
That to decline,

And thrust a Testament into Thy hand :

Let that be scann'd,

IO

There Thou shalt finde my faults are Thine. 15

159.¶HEAVEN.

O, who will show me those delights on high?

Thou, Echo, thou art mortall, all men know.

ECHO. I.

ECHO. No.

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ECHO. Leaves.

ECHO. Bide.

Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves?

And are there any leaves that still abide?