Sweetly didst thou expire: thy soul Death wean'd thee from the world and sin. Softly rest all thy virgin-crums! Lapt in the sweets of thy young breath, To dresse them, and unswadle death. FAITH. BRIGHT and blest beame! whose strong projection, Reacheth as well things of dejection How hath my God by raying thee Inlarg'd his spouse, And of a private familie Made open house! All Can interdict us from those joys That wait on thee. The law and ceremonies made A glorious night, Where stars and clouds, both light and shade, Had equal right; But, as in nature, when the day Stars shut up shop, mists pack away, So when the Sun of righteousness That scene was chang'd, and a new dresse Veiles became useles, altars fell, And all that sacred pomp, and shell Then did he shine forth, whose sad fall Were figur'd in those mystical And cloudie rites; And as i'th' natural sun, these three, So are now Faith, Hope, Charity Faith spans up blisse; what sin and death Lest we should run for't out of breath, So that I need no more, but say And my most loving Lord straitway THE DAWNING. АH! what time wilt thou come? when shall that crie "The bridegroome's comming!" fill the sky? Shall it in the evening run When our words and works are done? When either sleep or some dark pleasure And with their blush of light descry That with thy glory doth best chime; Full hymns doth yield; The whole creation shakes off night, X O at what time soever thou, Where, if a traveller water crave, But as this restless, vocal spring All day and night doth run and sing, And though here born, yet is acquainted In thy free services ingage; And though (while here) of force I must ADMISSION. I. How shrill are silent tears? when sin got head To brasse and iron, when my stock lay dead, Then did these drops (for marble sweats, As rain here at our windows beats, Chide in thine ears. II. No quiet could'st thou have; nor didst thou wink, But, e'r my eies could overflow their brink, Bowels of love! at what low rate, Dost thou relieve us at thy gate, And still our cries! III. Wee are thy infants, and suck thee: if thou Because where thou art yet we cannot go, These find thee out; and though our sins Yet with thy love that absence wins |