IV.

O give me, then, a thankful heart! a heart
After thy own, not mine;

So after thine, that all and ev'ry part
Of mine may wait on thine;

O hear! yet not my tears alone,
Hear now a floud,

A floud that drowns both tears and grones,
My Saviour's bloud.

PRAISE.

KING of comforts! King of life!
Thou hast cheer'd me;

And when fears and doubts were rife,
Thou hast cleer'd me;

Not a nook in all my breast
But thou fill'st it;

Not a thought, that breaks my rest,
But thou kill'st it.

Wherefore with my utmost strength
I will praise thee,

And, as thou giv'st line and length,
I will raise thee;

Day and night, not once a day,
I will blesse thee,

And thy promise, 'till made even, There shall feast me.

Then thy sayings, all my life,
There shall please me;
And thy bloudy wounds and strife,
They will ease me.

With thy grones, my daily breath I will measure;

And my life, hid in thy death,
I will treasure.

Though then thou art,
Past thought of heart,

All perfect fulness,

And canst no whit
Accesse admit

From dust and dulness;

Yet to thy name,
As not the same

With thy bright essence,
Our foul clay hands,
At thy commands,
Bring praise and incense.

If then, dread Lord,
When to thy board
Thy wretch comes begging,
He hath a flowre,
Or, to his pow'r,
Some such poor off'ring;

When thou hast made
Thy begger glad,
And fill'd his bosome,

Let him, though poor,
Strow at thy door

That one poor blossome.

DRESSING.

O THOU that lovest a pure and whitend soul!
That feedst among the lillies, 'till the day
Break, and the shadows flee! touch with one coal
My frozen heart! and, with thy secret key,

Open my desolate rooms; my gloomie brest
With thy cleer fire refine, burning to dust
These dark confusions that within me nest,
And soyl thy temple with a sinful rust.

Thou holy, harmless, undefil'd High Priest!
The perfect, full oblation for all sin,
Whose glorious conquest nothing can resist,
But even in babes doest triumph still and win;

Give to thy wretched one
Thy mysticall communion,

That, absent, he may see,
Live, die, and rise with thee;

Let him so follow here, that, in the end,
He
may take thee, as thou dost him intend.

Give him thy private seal,
Earnest, and sign! Thy gifts so deal
That these forerunners here
May make the future cleer!
Whatever thou dost bid let faith make good,
Bread for thy body, and wine for thy blood.

Give him, with pitty, love,

Two flowres that grew with thee above;

Love that shall not admit

Anger for one short fit;

And pitty of such a divine extent,
That may thy members, more than mine, resent.

Give me, my God! thy grace,
The beams and brightness of thy face;
That never like a beast

I take thy sacred feast,

Or the dread mysteries of thy best bloud
Use, with like custome, as my kitchin food.

Some sit to thee, and eat

Thy body as their common meat;
O let not me do so!

Poor dust should ly still low;

Then kneel, my soul and body, kneel and bow; If saints and angels fall down, much more thou.

EASTER-DAY.

THOU whose sad heart and weeping head lyes low, Whose cloudy brest cold damps invade,

Who never feel'st the sun nor smooth'st thy brow, But sitt'st oppressed in the shade,

Awake! awake!

And in his resurrection partake,

Who on this day, that thou might'st rise as he, Rose up, and cancell'd two deaths due to thee.

Awake! awake! and, like the sun, disperse
All mists that would usurp this day: