As they have done, to our eternal shame,
And the scandal of thy name.

Let's as door-keepers in thine house attend,
Rather than the throne of wickedness ascend.

THE CLERK.

THE Church's Bible-Clerk attends
Her Utensils, and ends

Her Prayers with Amen ;
Tunes Psalms, and to the Sacraments
Brings in the Elements,

And takes them out again;

Is humble-minded, and industrious handed, Doth nothing of himself, but as commanded.

All that the Vessels of the Lord

Do bear with one accord

Must study to be pure,

As they are if his holy eye
Do any spot espy,

He cannot it endure;

But most expecteth to be sanctified

In those come nearest him, and glorified.

Psalms then are always tuned best,
When there is most exprest

The holy Penman's heart:

All Music is but discord where

That wants, or doth not bear
The first and chiefest part.

Voices, without affections answerable,

When best, to God are most abominable.

Though in the blessed Sacraments
The outward Elements

Are but as husks and shells;

Yet he that knows the kernel's worth,
If even those send forth

Some Aromatic smells,

Will not esteem it waste, lest, Judas-like,
Through Mary's side he Christ himself should strike.

Lord, without whom we cannot tell
How to speak or think, well,
Lend us thy helping hand,
That what we do may pleasing be,
Not to ourselves but thee,

And answer thy command:

So that, not we alone, but thou may'st say
Amen to all our prayers, pray'd the right way.

THE OVERSEER OF THE POOR.

THE Church's Almoner takes care, that none
In their necessity

Shall unprovided be

Of maintenance, or employment; those alone,
Whom careless Idleness,

Or riotous excess,

Condemns to needless want, he leaves to be
Chasten'd a while by their own poverty.

Thou gracious Lord, rich in thyself, dost give
To all men liberally,

Upbraiding none.

Thine eye

Is open upon all. In thee we live,

Q

We move, and have our being:
But there is more than seeing.

For the poor with thee: they are thy special charge;
To them thou dost thine heart and hand enlarge.

Four sorts of poor there are, with whom thou deal'st.
Though always differently,
With such indifferency,

That none hath reason to complain: thou heal'st
All those whom thou dost wound:

If there be any found

Hurt by themselves, thou leavest them to endure
The pain, till the pain render them fit for cure.

Some in the world are poor, but rich in faith :
Their outward poverty
A plentiful supply

Of inward comforts and contentments hath.

And their estate is blest,

In this above the rest,

It was thy choice, whilst thou on earth didst stay,
And hadst not whereupon thy head to lay.

Some poor in spirit in the world are rich,
Although not many such:

And no man needs to grutch

Their happiness, who to maintain that pitch,
Have a hard task in hand,

Nor easily can withstand

The strong temptations that attend on riches: Mountains are more exposed to storms than ditches.

Some rich in the world are spiritually poor,
And destitute of grace,

Who may perchance have place

In the Church upon earth; but Heaven's door Too narrow is to admit

Such camels in at it,

Till they sell all they have, that field to buy,
Wherein the true treasure doth hidden lie.

Some spiritually poor, and destitute

Of in the world are poor,
grace

Begging from door to door,

Accursed both in God's and man's repute,
Till by their miseries

Tutor'd they learn to prize

Hungering and thirsting after righteousness,
Whilst they're on earth, their greatest happiness.

Lord, make me poor in spirit, and relieve
Me how thou wilt thyself,

No want of worldly pelf

Shall make me discontented, fret and grieve.
I know thine alms are best :

But, above all the rest,

Condemn me not unto the hell of riches, Without thy grace to countercharm the witches.

THE CHURCH-WARDEN.

THE Church's guardian takes care to keep
Her buildings always in repair,

Unwilling that any decay should creep
On them, before he is aware.

Nothing defaced,

Nothing displaced

He likes; but most doth long and love to see
The living stones order'd as they should be.

Lord, thou not only supervisor art

Of all our works, but in all those,

Which we dare own, thine is the chiefest part;
For there is none of us, that knows
How to do well;

Nor can we tell

What we should do, unless by thee directed:
It prospers not that's by ourselves projected.

That which we think ourselves to mend, we mar, And often make it ten times worse:

Reforming of Religion by war

Is the chymic blessing of a curse.

Great odds it is

That we shall miss

Of what we looked for :

Thine ends cannot

By any but by thine own means be got.

"Tis strange we so much dote upon our own. Deformity, and others scorn;

As if ourselves were beautiful alone;

When that which did us most adorn
We purposely
Choose to lay by,

Such decency and order, as did place us
In highest esteem, and guard as well as grace us.

Is not thy daughter glorious within,

When clothed in needle-work without?