The Thanksgiving
Oh King of grief! (a title strange, yet true, To thee of all kings only due) Oh King of wounds! how shall I grieve for thee, Who in all grief preventest me? Shall I
The H. Communion
Not in rich furniture, or fine array, Nor in a wedge of gold, Thou, who from me wast sold, To me dost now thy self convey; For so thou should’st without me still have
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
Life
I made a posie, while the day ran by: Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band. But time did becken to the flowers, and they By noon
Vanity (I)
The fleet astronomer can bore And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing mind: He views theirs stations, walks from door to door, Surveys, as if he had designed To make a purchase there: he
The Pulley
When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, Let us (said He) pour on him all we can: Let the world’s riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span.
A Wreath
A wreathed garland of deserved praise, Of praise deserved, unto thee I give, I give to thee, who knowest all my wayes, My crooked winding wayes, wherein I live, Wherein I die, not live
Church Music
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 assigned. Now I in you
Whitsunday
Listen sweet Dove unto my song, And spread thy golden wings in me; Hatching my tender heart so long, Till it get wing, and fly away with thee. Where is that fire which once
The Pearl
The Kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, Seeking goodly pearls; who, when he had found one, Sold all that he had and bought it.-Matthew 13.45 I know the ways of Learning;
Grace
My stock lies dead and no increase Doth my dull husbandry improve: O let thy graces without cease Drop from above! If still the sun should hide his face, Thy house would but a
Clasping of Hands
LORD, Thou art mine, and I am Thine, If mine I am; and Thine much more Then I or ought or can be mine. Yet to be Thine doth me restore, So that again
H. Baptism
As he that sees a dark and shady grove, Stays not, but looks beyond it on the sky; So when I view my sins, mine eyes remove More backward still, and to that water
Sin's Round
Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am, That my offences course it in a ring. My thoughts are working like a busy flame, Until their cockatrice they hatch and bring: And when they
Sonnet (II)
Sure Lord, there is enough in thee to dry Oceans of Ink ; for, as the Deluge did Cover the Earth, so doth thy Majesty : Each Cloud distills thy praise, and doth forbid