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My God, what is a heart,

That thou shouldst it so eye, and woo,
Pouring upon it all thy art,

As if that thou hadst nothing else to do?

Indeed, man's whole estate

Amounts (and richly) to serve thee: He did not heaven and earth create, Yet studies them, not Him by whom they be.

Teach me thy love to know;

That this new light, which now I see, May both the work and workman show : Then by a Sunbeam I will climb to thee.


O THAT I Could a sin once see!
We paint the devil foul, yet he
Hath some good in him, all agree.
Sin is flat opposite to th' Almighty, seeing
It wants the good of virtue, and of being.

But God more care of us hath had,
If apparitions make us sad,

By sight of sin we should grow mad.
Yet as in sleep we see foul death, and live;

So devils are our sins in prospective.


BLEST be the God of love,

Who gave me eyes, and light, and power this day, Both to be busy and to play.

But much more blest be God above,

Who gave me sight alone,

Which to himself he did deny :

For when he sees my ways,

I die :

But I have got his Son, and he hath none.

What have I brought thee home
For this thy love? have I discharged the debt,
Which this day's favour did beget?

I ran; but all I brought, was foam.

Thy diet, care, and cost

Do end in bubbles, balls of wind;
Of wind to thee whom I have crost,
But balls of wild-fire to my troubled mind.

Yet still thou goest on,

And now with darkness closest weary eyes,
Saying to man, It doth suffice:
Henceforth repose; your work is done.

Thus in thy Ebony box
Thou dost enclose us, till the day
Put our amendment in our way,

And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks.

I muse, which shows more love,

The day or night that is the gale, this th' harbour/;
That is the walk, and this the arbour;
Or that the garden, this the grove.

My God, thou art all love.

Not one poor minute 'scapes thy breast,
But brings a favour from above;
And in this love, more than in bed, I rest.


WHILE that my soul repairs to her devotion,
Here I entomb my flesh, that it betimes
May take acquaintance of this heap of dust;
To which the blast of death's incessant motion,
Fed with the exhalation of our crimes,
Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust

My body to this school, that it may learn
To spell his elements, and find his birth
Written in dusty heraldry and lines;
Which dissolution sure doth best discern,
Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth.
These laugh at Jet, and Marble put for signs,

To sever the good fellowship of dust,

And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them,
When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat
To kiss those heaps, which now they have in trust?
Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stem
And true descent; that when thou shalt grow fat,

And wanton in thy cravings, thou may'st know,
That flesh is but the glass, which holds the dust
That measures all our time; which also shall
Be crumbled into dust. Mark here below,
How tame these ashes are, how free from lust,
That thou may'st fit thyself against thy fall.


SWEETEST of sweets, I thank you: when displeasure Did through my body wound my mind,

You took me thence; and in your house of pleasure A dainty lodging me assign'd.

Now I in you without a body move,

Rising and falling with your wings : We both together sweetly live and love,

Yet say sometimes, God help poor kings.

Comfort, I'll die; for if you post from me,
Sure I shall do so, and much more:

But if I travel in your company,

You know the way to heaven's door.


I KNOW it is my sin, which locks thine ears,
And binds thy hands!
Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears;
Or else the chillness of my faint demands.

But as cold hands are angry with the fire,

And mend it still;

So I do lay the want of my desire,

Not on my sins, or coldness, but thy will.

Yet hear, O God, only for His blood's sake,

Which pleads for me:

For though sins plead too, yet like stones they make His blood's sweet current much more loud to be.


MARK you the floor? that square and speckled stone, Which looks so firm and strong,

Is Patience:

And th' other black and grave, wherewith each one
Is chequer'd all along,

The gentle rising, which on either hand
Leads to the quire above,
Is Confidence:

But the sweet cement, which in one sure band
Ties the whole frame, is Love
And Charity.

HITHER Sometimes Sin steals, and stains
The Marble's neat and curious veins :

But all is cleansed when the Marble weeps.

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