H. Baptism II
Since, Lord, to thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage, on my infancy Thou didst lay hold, and antedate My faith in me. O let me still Write thee great
The Dawning
Awake, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns ; Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth ; Unfold thy forehead, gathered into frowns ; Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth : Awake, awake,
Love
Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I
Sepulchre
O blessed body! Whither are thou thrown? No lodging for thee, but a cold hard stone? So many hearts on earth, and yet not one Receive thee? Sure there is room within our hearts’
Love (II)
Immortal Heat, O let thy greater flame Attract the lesser to it: let those fires Which shall consume the world, first make it tame, And kindle in our hearts such true desires, As may
Easter Wings
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he became Most poor: With thee O let me rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing
Sonnet (I)
My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, Wherewith whole showls of Martyrs once did burn, Besides their other flames? Doth Poetry Wear Venus livery? only serve her turn? Why are not Sonnets
Love (III)
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack, From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning, If I
Lent
Welcome dear feast of Lent: who loves not thee, He loves not Temperance, or Authority, But is compos’d of passion. The Scriptures bid us fast; the Church says, now: Give to thy Mother, what
Affliction (IV)
Broken in pieces all asunder, Lord, hunt me not, A thing forgot, Once a poor creature, now a wonder, A wonder tortur’d in the space Betwixt this world and that of grace. My thoughts
A Dialogue
Man. SWEETEST Saviour, if my soul Were but worth the having, Quickly should I then control Any thought of waving. But when all my care and pains Cannot give the name of gains To
The Collar
I struck the board, and cried “No more! I will abroad. What, shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free; free as the road, Loose as the wind, as large
Sighs And Groans
O do not use me After my sins! look not on my dessert, But on your glory! Then you will reform And not refuse me: for you only art The mighty God, but I
Good Friday
O my chief good, How shall I measure out thy blood? How shall I count what thee befell, And each grief tell? Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes? Or, since one
The Windows
Lord, how can man preach thy eternall word? He is a brittle crazie glasse: Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, To be a window, through thy grace.