Sin. Он, that I could a sin once see! But God more care of us hath had. By sight of sin we should grow mad. Even Song. 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 ;- What have I brought thee home 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; Yet still thou goest on: And now with darkness closest weary eyes, Thus in thy ebony box Thou dost enclose us; till the day Put our amendment in our way, And give new wheels to our disordered clocks. I muse which shews more love, The day or night: that is the gale, this the harbor; That is the walk, and this the arbor; Or, that the garden, this the grove. My God! thou art all love; Not one poor minute 'scapes thy breast, And in this love, more than in bed, I rest. Church Monuments. WHILE that my soul repairs to her devotion, My body to this school, that it may learn Which dissolution sure doth best discern, To sever the good fellowship of dust, And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them, And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayst know, Church Music. SWEETEST of sweets, I thank you; when displeasure 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, But if I travel in your company, You know the way to heaven's door. Church Lock and Key. I KNOW it is my sin which locks thine ears, Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears;— But, as cold hands are angry with the fire, 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. The Church Floor. MARK you the floor? That square and speckled stone, And th' other black and grave, wherewith each one The gentle rising, which on either hand IS CONFIDENCE. But the sweet cement, which in one sure band Hither sometimes Sin steals, and stains The marble's neat and curious veins ; But all is cleansed when the marble weeps. Sometimes Death, puffing at the door, Blows all the dust about the floor: But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps. The Windows. LORD, how can man preach thy eternal word? Yet in thy Temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, But when thou dost anneal in glass thy story, The holy preachers; then the light and glory More rev'rend grows, and more doth win,— |