If, poor soul, thou hast no tears, Winds still work: it is their plot, If thou hast no sighs or groans, But, if yet thou idle be, Foolish soul, who died for thee? Who did leave his Father's throne If he had not lived for thee, He so far thy good did plot, If he had not died for thee, Two lives worse than ten deaths be. And hath any space of breath 'Twixt his sins and Saviour's death? He that loseth gold, though dross, He that finds a silver vein, Thinks on it, and thinks again : Brings thy Saviour's death no gain? Who in heart not ever kneels, Neither sin nor Saviour feels. Dialogue. SWEETEST Saviour, if my soul Quickly should I then control What, child! is the balance thine? Thine the poise and measure? What the gains in having thee Who for man was sold, can see; But, as I can see no merit So the way to fit me for it, As the reason then is thine, That is all; if that I could And my clay, my creature would That as I did freely part With my glory and desert, Left all joys to feel all smart— Ah! no more: thou break'st my heart. Dulness. WHY do I languish thus, drooping and dull, Oh, give me quickness, that I may with mirth The wanton lover in a curious strain And with quaint metaphors her curled hair Thou art my loveliness, my life, my light; Thy bloody death, and undeserved, makes thee When all perfections as but one appear, That-those thy form doth show; The very dust, where thou dost tread and go, Where are my lines, then? my approaches? views? Lovers are still pretending: and even wrongs But I am lost in flesh, whose sugared lies Sure, thou didst put a mind there, if I could Lord, clear thy gift! that, with a constant wit, Love-joy. As on a window late I cast mine eye, Of Joy and Charity. "Sir, you have not missed," Providence. O SACRED Providence, who, from end to end, Of all the creatures, both in sea and land, Beasts fain would sing; birds ditty to their notes; Man is the world's high priest; he doth present Unto the service mutter an assent, Such as springs use that fall, and winds that blow. He that to praise and laud thee doth refrain, But robs a thousand, who would praise thee fain; The beasts say, Eat me; but, if beasts must teach, |