Prayers and praises are those spotless twoLambs, by the law, which God requires as due.
Prayers and praises are those spotless twoLambs, by the law, which God requires as due.
Prayers and praises are those spotless twoLambs, by the law, which God requires as due.
God ne'er afflicts us more than our desert,Though He may seem to overact His part:Sometimes He strikes us more than flesh can bear;But yet still less than grace can suffer here.
God ne'er afflicts us more than our desert,Though He may seem to overact His part:Sometimes He strikes us more than flesh can bear;But yet still less than grace can suffer here.
God ne'er afflicts us more than our desert,Though He may seem to overact His part:Sometimes He strikes us more than flesh can bear;But yet still less than grace can suffer here.
Three fatal sisters wait upon each sin;First, fear and shame without, then guilt within.
Three fatal sisters wait upon each sin;First, fear and shame without, then guilt within.
Three fatal sisters wait upon each sin;First, fear and shame without, then guilt within.
Suffer thy legs, but not thy tongue to walk:God, the Most Wise, is sparing of His talk.
Suffer thy legs, but not thy tongue to walk:God, the Most Wise, is sparing of His talk.
Suffer thy legs, but not thy tongue to walk:God, the Most Wise, is sparing of His talk.
True mirth resides not in the smiling skin:The sweetest solace is to act no sin.
True mirth resides not in the smiling skin:The sweetest solace is to act no sin.
True mirth resides not in the smiling skin:The sweetest solace is to act no sin.
God loads and unloads, thus His work begins,To load with blessings and unload from sins.
God loads and unloads, thus His work begins,To load with blessings and unload from sins.
God loads and unloads, thus His work begins,To load with blessings and unload from sins.
God's boundless mercy is, to sinful man,Like to the ever-wealthy ocean:Which though it sends forth thousand streams, 'tis ne'erKnown, or else seen, to be the emptier;And though it takes all in, 'tis yet no moreFull, and fill'd full, than when full fill'd before.
God's boundless mercy is, to sinful man,Like to the ever-wealthy ocean:Which though it sends forth thousand streams, 'tis ne'erKnown, or else seen, to be the emptier;And though it takes all in, 'tis yet no moreFull, and fill'd full, than when full fill'd before.
God's boundless mercy is, to sinful man,Like to the ever-wealthy ocean:Which though it sends forth thousand streams, 'tis ne'erKnown, or else seen, to be the emptier;And though it takes all in, 'tis yet no moreFull, and fill'd full, than when full fill'd before.
God, He rejects all prayers that are slightAnd want their poise: words ought to have their weight.
God, He rejects all prayers that are slightAnd want their poise: words ought to have their weight.
God, He rejects all prayers that are slightAnd want their poise: words ought to have their weight.
Verse.My God, I'm wounded by my sin,And sore without, and sick within.Ver. Chor.I come to Thee, in hope to findSalve for my body and my mind.Verse.In Gilead though no balm be foundTo ease this smart or cure this wound,Ver. Chor.Yet, Lord, I know there is with TheeAll saving health, and help for me.Verse.Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,That pours in oil, as well as wine,Ver. Chor.And let it work, for I'll endureThe utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.
Verse.My God, I'm wounded by my sin,And sore without, and sick within.Ver. Chor.I come to Thee, in hope to findSalve for my body and my mind.Verse.In Gilead though no balm be foundTo ease this smart or cure this wound,Ver. Chor.Yet, Lord, I know there is with TheeAll saving health, and help for me.Verse.Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,That pours in oil, as well as wine,Ver. Chor.And let it work, for I'll endureThe utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.
Verse.My God, I'm wounded by my sin,And sore without, and sick within.Ver. Chor.I come to Thee, in hope to findSalve for my body and my mind.Verse.In Gilead though no balm be foundTo ease this smart or cure this wound,Ver. Chor.Yet, Lord, I know there is with TheeAll saving health, and help for me.Verse.Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,That pours in oil, as well as wine,Ver. Chor.And let it work, for I'll endureThe utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.
God is all fore-part; for, we never seeAny part backward in the Deity.
God is all fore-part; for, we never seeAny part backward in the Deity.
God is all fore-part; for, we never seeAny part backward in the Deity.
God is not only merciful to callMen to repent, but when He strikes withal.
God is not only merciful to callMen to repent, but when He strikes withal.
God is not only merciful to callMen to repent, but when He strikes withal.
God scourgeth some severely, some He spares;But all in smart have less or greater shares.
God scourgeth some severely, some He spares;But all in smart have less or greater shares.
God scourgeth some severely, some He spares;But all in smart have less or greater shares.
God's rod doth watch while men do sleep, and thenThe rod doth sleep, while vigilant are men.
God's rod doth watch while men do sleep, and thenThe rod doth sleep, while vigilant are men.
God's rod doth watch while men do sleep, and thenThe rod doth sleep, while vigilant are men.
God, when for sin He makes His children smart,His own He acts not, but another's part;But when by stripes He saves them, then 'tis knownHe comes to play the part that is His own.
God, when for sin He makes His children smart,His own He acts not, but another's part;But when by stripes He saves them, then 'tis knownHe comes to play the part that is His own.
God, when for sin He makes His children smart,His own He acts not, but another's part;But when by stripes He saves them, then 'tis knownHe comes to play the part that is His own.
God, as He is most holy known,So He is said to be most one.
God, as He is most holy known,So He is said to be most one.
God, as He is most holy known,So He is said to be most one.
Afflictions they most profitable areTo the beholder and the sufferer:Bettering them both, but by a double strain,The first by patience, and the last by pain.
Afflictions they most profitable areTo the beholder and the sufferer:Bettering them both, but by a double strain,The first by patience, and the last by pain.
Afflictions they most profitable areTo the beholder and the sufferer:Bettering them both, but by a double strain,The first by patience, and the last by pain.
Do with me, God, as Thou didst deal with John,Who writ that heavenly Revelation.Let me, like him, first cracks of thunder hear,Then let the harps enchantments stroke mine ear:Here give me thorns, there, in Thy kingdom, setUpon my head the golden coronet;There give me day; but here my dreadful night:My sackcloth here; but there my stole of white.
Do with me, God, as Thou didst deal with John,Who writ that heavenly Revelation.Let me, like him, first cracks of thunder hear,Then let the harps enchantments stroke mine ear:Here give me thorns, there, in Thy kingdom, setUpon my head the golden coronet;There give me day; but here my dreadful night:My sackcloth here; but there my stole of white.
Do with me, God, as Thou didst deal with John,Who writ that heavenly Revelation.Let me, like him, first cracks of thunder hear,Then let the harps enchantments stroke mine ear:Here give me thorns, there, in Thy kingdom, setUpon my head the golden coronet;There give me day; but here my dreadful night:My sackcloth here; but there my stole of white.
Stroke, textstrike.
God has His whips here to a twofold end:The bad to punish, and the good t' amend.
God has His whips here to a twofold end:The bad to punish, and the good t' amend.
God has His whips here to a twofold end:The bad to punish, and the good t' amend.
If all transgressions here should have their pay,What need there then be of a reckoning day?If God should punish no sin here of men,His providence who would not question then?
If all transgressions here should have their pay,What need there then be of a reckoning day?If God should punish no sin here of men,His providence who would not question then?
If all transgressions here should have their pay,What need there then be of a reckoning day?If God should punish no sin here of men,His providence who would not question then?
Those saints which God loves best,The devil tempts not least.
Those saints which God loves best,The devil tempts not least.
Those saints which God loves best,The devil tempts not least.
My God! look on me with Thine eyeOf pity, not of scrutiny;For if Thou dost, Thou then shalt seeNothing but loathsome sores in me.O then, for mercy's sake, beholdThese my eruptions manifold,And heal me with Thy look or touch;But if Thou wilt not deign so much,Because I'm odious in Thy sight,Speak but the word, and cure me quite.
My God! look on me with Thine eyeOf pity, not of scrutiny;For if Thou dost, Thou then shalt seeNothing but loathsome sores in me.O then, for mercy's sake, beholdThese my eruptions manifold,And heal me with Thy look or touch;But if Thou wilt not deign so much,Because I'm odious in Thy sight,Speak but the word, and cure me quite.
My God! look on me with Thine eyeOf pity, not of scrutiny;For if Thou dost, Thou then shalt seeNothing but loathsome sores in me.O then, for mercy's sake, beholdThese my eruptions manifold,And heal me with Thy look or touch;But if Thou wilt not deign so much,Because I'm odious in Thy sight,Speak but the word, and cure me quite.
God hears us when we pray, but yet defersHis gifts, to exercise petitioners;And though a while He makes requesters stay,With princely hand He'll recompense delay.
God hears us when we pray, but yet defersHis gifts, to exercise petitioners;And though a while He makes requesters stay,With princely hand He'll recompense delay.
God hears us when we pray, but yet defersHis gifts, to exercise petitioners;And though a while He makes requesters stay,With princely hand He'll recompense delay.
God strikes His Church, but 'tis to this intent,To make, not mar her, by this punishment;So where He gives the bitter pills, be sure'Tis not to poison, but to make thee pure.
God strikes His Church, but 'tis to this intent,To make, not mar her, by this punishment;So where He gives the bitter pills, be sure'Tis not to poison, but to make thee pure.
God strikes His Church, but 'tis to this intent,To make, not mar her, by this punishment;So where He gives the bitter pills, be sure'Tis not to poison, but to make thee pure.
God pardons those who do through frailty sin,But never those that persevere therein.
God pardons those who do through frailty sin,But never those that persevere therein.
God pardons those who do through frailty sin,But never those that persevere therein.
In numbers, and but these few,I sing Thy birth, OJesu!Thou pretty baby, born here,With sup'rabundant scorn here;Who for Thy princely port here,Hadst for Thy placeOf birth a baseOut-stable for Thy court here.Instead of neat enclosuresOf interwoven osiers,Instead of fragrant posiesOf daffodils and roses,Thy cradle, Kingly Stranger,As Gospel tells,Was nothing elseBut here a homely manger.But we with silks, not crewels,With sundry precious jewels,And lily-work will dress Thee;And as we dispossess TheeOf clouts, we'll make a chamber,Sweet babe, for TheeOf ivory,And plaister'd round with amber.The Jews they did disdain Thee,But we will entertain TheeWith glories to await here,Upon Thy princely state here;And more for love than pity,From year to year,We'll make Thee, here,A freeborn of our city.
In numbers, and but these few,I sing Thy birth, OJesu!Thou pretty baby, born here,With sup'rabundant scorn here;Who for Thy princely port here,Hadst for Thy placeOf birth a baseOut-stable for Thy court here.Instead of neat enclosuresOf interwoven osiers,Instead of fragrant posiesOf daffodils and roses,Thy cradle, Kingly Stranger,As Gospel tells,Was nothing elseBut here a homely manger.But we with silks, not crewels,With sundry precious jewels,And lily-work will dress Thee;And as we dispossess TheeOf clouts, we'll make a chamber,Sweet babe, for TheeOf ivory,And plaister'd round with amber.The Jews they did disdain Thee,But we will entertain TheeWith glories to await here,Upon Thy princely state here;And more for love than pity,From year to year,We'll make Thee, here,A freeborn of our city.
In numbers, and but these few,I sing Thy birth, OJesu!Thou pretty baby, born here,With sup'rabundant scorn here;Who for Thy princely port here,Hadst for Thy placeOf birth a baseOut-stable for Thy court here.
Instead of neat enclosuresOf interwoven osiers,Instead of fragrant posiesOf daffodils and roses,Thy cradle, Kingly Stranger,As Gospel tells,Was nothing elseBut here a homely manger.
But we with silks, not crewels,With sundry precious jewels,And lily-work will dress Thee;And as we dispossess TheeOf clouts, we'll make a chamber,Sweet babe, for TheeOf ivory,And plaister'd round with amber.
The Jews they did disdain Thee,But we will entertain TheeWith glories to await here,Upon Thy princely state here;And more for love than pity,From year to year,We'll make Thee, here,A freeborn of our city.
Crewels, worsteds.Clouts, rags.
In the old Scripture I have often read,The calf without meal ne'er was offered;To figure to us nothing more than this,Without the heart lip-labour nothing is.
In the old Scripture I have often read,The calf without meal ne'er was offered;To figure to us nothing more than this,Without the heart lip-labour nothing is.
In the old Scripture I have often read,The calf without meal ne'er was offered;To figure to us nothing more than this,Without the heart lip-labour nothing is.
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part,Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part,Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part,Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
Why wore th' Egyptians jewels in the ear?But for to teach us, all the grace is there,When we obey, by acting what we hear.
Why wore th' Egyptians jewels in the ear?But for to teach us, all the grace is there,When we obey, by acting what we hear.
Why wore th' Egyptians jewels in the ear?But for to teach us, all the grace is there,When we obey, by acting what we hear.
When once the sin has fully acted been,Then is the horror of the trespass seen.
When once the sin has fully acted been,Then is the horror of the trespass seen.
When once the sin has fully acted been,Then is the horror of the trespass seen.
Time was uponThe wing, to fly away;And I call'd onHim but awhile to stay;But he'd be gone,For ought that I could say.He held out thenA writing, as he went;And ask'd me, whenFalse man would be contentTo pay againWhat God and Nature lent.An hour-glass,In which were sands but few,As he did pass,He show'd, and told me, too,Mine end near was;And so away he flew.
Time was uponThe wing, to fly away;And I call'd onHim but awhile to stay;But he'd be gone,For ought that I could say.He held out thenA writing, as he went;And ask'd me, whenFalse man would be contentTo pay againWhat God and Nature lent.An hour-glass,In which were sands but few,As he did pass,He show'd, and told me, too,Mine end near was;And so away he flew.
Time was uponThe wing, to fly away;And I call'd onHim but awhile to stay;But he'd be gone,For ought that I could say.
He held out thenA writing, as he went;And ask'd me, whenFalse man would be contentTo pay againWhat God and Nature lent.
An hour-glass,In which were sands but few,As he did pass,He show'd, and told me, too,Mine end near was;And so away he flew.
If war or want shall make me grow so poor,As for to beg my bread from door to door;Lord! let me never act that beggar's part,Who hath Thee in his mouth, not in his heart:He who asks alms in that so sacred Name,Without due reverence, plays the cheater's game.
If war or want shall make me grow so poor,As for to beg my bread from door to door;Lord! let me never act that beggar's part,Who hath Thee in his mouth, not in his heart:He who asks alms in that so sacred Name,Without due reverence, plays the cheater's game.
If war or want shall make me grow so poor,As for to beg my bread from door to door;Lord! let me never act that beggar's part,Who hath Thee in his mouth, not in his heart:He who asks alms in that so sacred Name,Without due reverence, plays the cheater's game.
Thou hast promis'd, Lord, to beWith me in my misery;Suffer me to be so boldAs to speak, Lord, say and hold.
Thou hast promis'd, Lord, to beWith me in my misery;Suffer me to be so boldAs to speak, Lord, say and hold.
Thou hast promis'd, Lord, to beWith me in my misery;Suffer me to be so boldAs to speak, Lord, say and hold.
In the hour of my distress,When temptations me oppress,And when I my sins confess,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When I lie within my bed,Sick in heart and sick in head,And with doubts discomforted,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the house doth sigh and weep,And the world is drown'd in sleep,Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the artless doctor seesNo one hope, but of his fees,And his skill runs on the lees,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When his potion and his pillHas, or none, or little skill,Meet for nothing, but to kill;Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the passing bell doth toll,And the furies in a shoalCome to fright a parting soul,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the tapers now burn blue,And the comforters are few,And that number more than true,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the priest his last hath prayed,And I nod to what is said,'Cause my speech is now decayed,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When, God knows, I'm toss'd about,Either with despair, or doubt;Yet before the glass be out,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the tempter me pursu'thWith the sins of all my youth,And half damns me with untruth,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the flames and hellish criesFright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,And all terrors me surprise,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the judgment is reveal'd,And that open'd which was seal'd,When to Thee I have appeal'd,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
In the hour of my distress,When temptations me oppress,And when I my sins confess,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When I lie within my bed,Sick in heart and sick in head,And with doubts discomforted,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the house doth sigh and weep,And the world is drown'd in sleep,Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the artless doctor seesNo one hope, but of his fees,And his skill runs on the lees,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When his potion and his pillHas, or none, or little skill,Meet for nothing, but to kill;Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the passing bell doth toll,And the furies in a shoalCome to fright a parting soul,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the tapers now burn blue,And the comforters are few,And that number more than true,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the priest his last hath prayed,And I nod to what is said,'Cause my speech is now decayed,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When, God knows, I'm toss'd about,Either with despair, or doubt;Yet before the glass be out,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the tempter me pursu'thWith the sins of all my youth,And half damns me with untruth,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the flames and hellish criesFright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,And all terrors me surprise,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!When the judgment is reveal'd,And that open'd which was seal'd,When to Thee I have appeal'd,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
In the hour of my distress,When temptations me oppress,And when I my sins confess,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,Sick in heart and sick in head,And with doubts discomforted,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,And the world is drown'd in sleep,Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the artless doctor seesNo one hope, but of his fees,And his skill runs on the lees,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When his potion and his pillHas, or none, or little skill,Meet for nothing, but to kill;Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the passing bell doth toll,And the furies in a shoalCome to fright a parting soul,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,And the comforters are few,And that number more than true,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the priest his last hath prayed,And I nod to what is said,'Cause my speech is now decayed,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When, God knows, I'm toss'd about,Either with despair, or doubt;Yet before the glass be out,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tempter me pursu'thWith the sins of all my youth,And half damns me with untruth,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the flames and hellish criesFright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,And all terrors me surprise,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the judgment is reveal'd,And that open'd which was seal'd,When to Thee I have appeal'd,Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
Thanksgiving for a former, doth inviteGod to bestow a second benefit.
Thanksgiving for a former, doth inviteGod to bestow a second benefit.
Thanksgiving for a former, doth inviteGod to bestow a second benefit.
Bellman of night, if I about shall goFor to deny my Master, do thou crow.Thou stop'dst St. Peter in the midst of sin;Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin:Better it is, premonish'd for to shunA sin, than fall to weeping when 'tis done.
Bellman of night, if I about shall goFor to deny my Master, do thou crow.Thou stop'dst St. Peter in the midst of sin;Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin:Better it is, premonish'd for to shunA sin, than fall to weeping when 'tis done.
Bellman of night, if I about shall goFor to deny my Master, do thou crow.Thou stop'dst St. Peter in the midst of sin;Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin:Better it is, premonish'd for to shunA sin, than fall to weeping when 'tis done.
Adverse and prosperous fortunes both work onHere, for the righteous man's salvation;Be he oppos'd, or be he not withstood,All serve to th' augmentation of his good.
Adverse and prosperous fortunes both work onHere, for the righteous man's salvation;Be he oppos'd, or be he not withstood,All serve to th' augmentation of his good.
Adverse and prosperous fortunes both work onHere, for the righteous man's salvation;Be he oppos'd, or be he not withstood,All serve to th' augmentation of his good.
Afflictions bring us joy in times to come,When sins, by stripes, to us grow wearisome.
Afflictions bring us joy in times to come,When sins, by stripes, to us grow wearisome.
Afflictions bring us joy in times to come,When sins, by stripes, to us grow wearisome.
I'll come, I'll creep, though Thou dost threat,Humbly unto Thy mercy-seat:When I am there, this then I'll do,Give Thee a dart, and dagger too;Next, when I have my faults confessed,Naked I'll show a sighing breast;Which if that can't Thy pity woo,Then let Thy justice do the restAnd strike it through.
I'll come, I'll creep, though Thou dost threat,Humbly unto Thy mercy-seat:When I am there, this then I'll do,Give Thee a dart, and dagger too;Next, when I have my faults confessed,Naked I'll show a sighing breast;Which if that can't Thy pity woo,Then let Thy justice do the restAnd strike it through.
I'll come, I'll creep, though Thou dost threat,Humbly unto Thy mercy-seat:When I am there, this then I'll do,Give Thee a dart, and dagger too;Next, when I have my faults confessed,Naked I'll show a sighing breast;Which if that can't Thy pity woo,Then let Thy justice do the restAnd strike it through.
Lord, Thou hast given me a cellWherein to dwell;A little house, whose humble roofIs weather-proof;Under the spars of which I lieBoth soft and dry;Where Thou my chamber for to wardHast set a guardOf harmless thoughts, to watch and keepMe, while I sleep.Low is my porch, as is my fate,Both void of state;And yet the threshold of my doorIs worn by th' poor,Who thither come, and freely getGood words or meat;Like as my parlour, so my hallAnd kitchen's small;A little buttery, and thereinA little binWhich keeps my little loaf of breadUnclipt, unflead.Some brittle sticks of thorn or briarMake me a fire,Close by whose living coal I sit,And glow like it.Lord, I confess, too, when I dine,The pulse is Thine,And all those other bits, that beThere placed by Thee;The worts, the purslain, and the messOf water-cress,Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent;And my contentMakes those, and my beloved beet,To be more sweet.'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearthWith guiltless mirth;And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,Spiced to the brink.Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand,That soils my land;And giv'st me for my bushel sown,Twice ten for one.Thou mak'st my teeming hen to layHer egg each day;Besides my healthful ewes to bearMe twins each year,The while the conduits of my kineRun cream for wine.All these, and better Thou dost sendMe, to this end,That I should render, for my part,A thankful heart;Which, fired with incense, I resign,As wholly Thine;But the acceptance, that must be,My Christ, by Thee.
Lord, Thou hast given me a cellWherein to dwell;A little house, whose humble roofIs weather-proof;Under the spars of which I lieBoth soft and dry;Where Thou my chamber for to wardHast set a guardOf harmless thoughts, to watch and keepMe, while I sleep.Low is my porch, as is my fate,Both void of state;And yet the threshold of my doorIs worn by th' poor,Who thither come, and freely getGood words or meat;Like as my parlour, so my hallAnd kitchen's small;A little buttery, and thereinA little binWhich keeps my little loaf of breadUnclipt, unflead.Some brittle sticks of thorn or briarMake me a fire,Close by whose living coal I sit,And glow like it.Lord, I confess, too, when I dine,The pulse is Thine,And all those other bits, that beThere placed by Thee;The worts, the purslain, and the messOf water-cress,Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent;And my contentMakes those, and my beloved beet,To be more sweet.'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearthWith guiltless mirth;And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,Spiced to the brink.Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand,That soils my land;And giv'st me for my bushel sown,Twice ten for one.Thou mak'st my teeming hen to layHer egg each day;Besides my healthful ewes to bearMe twins each year,The while the conduits of my kineRun cream for wine.All these, and better Thou dost sendMe, to this end,That I should render, for my part,A thankful heart;Which, fired with incense, I resign,As wholly Thine;But the acceptance, that must be,My Christ, by Thee.
Lord, Thou hast given me a cellWherein to dwell;A little house, whose humble roofIs weather-proof;Under the spars of which I lieBoth soft and dry;Where Thou my chamber for to wardHast set a guardOf harmless thoughts, to watch and keepMe, while I sleep.Low is my porch, as is my fate,Both void of state;And yet the threshold of my doorIs worn by th' poor,Who thither come, and freely getGood words or meat;Like as my parlour, so my hallAnd kitchen's small;A little buttery, and thereinA little binWhich keeps my little loaf of breadUnclipt, unflead.Some brittle sticks of thorn or briarMake me a fire,Close by whose living coal I sit,And glow like it.Lord, I confess, too, when I dine,The pulse is Thine,And all those other bits, that beThere placed by Thee;The worts, the purslain, and the messOf water-cress,Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent;And my contentMakes those, and my beloved beet,To be more sweet.'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearthWith guiltless mirth;And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,Spiced to the brink.Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand,That soils my land;And giv'st me for my bushel sown,Twice ten for one.Thou mak'st my teeming hen to layHer egg each day;Besides my healthful ewes to bearMe twins each year,The while the conduits of my kineRun cream for wine.All these, and better Thou dost sendMe, to this end,That I should render, for my part,A thankful heart;Which, fired with incense, I resign,As wholly Thine;But the acceptance, that must be,My Christ, by Thee.
Unflead, lit. unflay'd.Purslain, an herb.
Make, make me Thine, my gracious God,Or with Thy staff, or with Thy rod;And be the blow, too, what it will,Lord, I will kiss it, though it kill:Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me,Yet, in torments, I'll commend Thee;Examine me with fire, and prove meTo the full, yet I will love Thee;Nor shall Thou give so deep a woundBut I as patient will be found.
Make, make me Thine, my gracious God,Or with Thy staff, or with Thy rod;And be the blow, too, what it will,Lord, I will kiss it, though it kill:Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me,Yet, in torments, I'll commend Thee;Examine me with fire, and prove meTo the full, yet I will love Thee;Nor shall Thou give so deep a woundBut I as patient will be found.
Make, make me Thine, my gracious God,Or with Thy staff, or with Thy rod;And be the blow, too, what it will,Lord, I will kiss it, though it kill:Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me,Yet, in torments, I'll commend Thee;Examine me with fire, and prove meTo the full, yet I will love Thee;Nor shall Thou give so deep a woundBut I as patient will be found.
Lord, do not beat me,Since I do sob and cry,And swoon away to die,Ere Thou dost threat me.Lord, do not scourge me,If I by lies and oathsHave soil'd myself or clothes,But rather purge me.
Lord, do not beat me,Since I do sob and cry,And swoon away to die,Ere Thou dost threat me.Lord, do not scourge me,If I by lies and oathsHave soil'd myself or clothes,But rather purge me.
Lord, do not beat me,Since I do sob and cry,And swoon away to die,Ere Thou dost threat me.Lord, do not scourge me,If I by lies and oathsHave soil'd myself or clothes,But rather purge me.
Happy's that man to whom God givesA stock of goods, whereby he livesNear to the wishes of his heart:No man is blest through every part.
Happy's that man to whom God givesA stock of goods, whereby he livesNear to the wishes of his heart:No man is blest through every part.
Happy's that man to whom God givesA stock of goods, whereby he livesNear to the wishes of his heart:No man is blest through every part.
Can I not come to Thee, my God, for theseSo very many meeting hindrances,That slack my pace, but yet not make me stay?Who slowly goes, rids, in the end, his way.Clear Thou my paths, or shorten Thou my miles,Remove the bars, or lift me o'er the stiles;Since rough the way is, help me when I call,And take me up; or else prevent the fall.I ken my home, and it affords some easeTo see far off the smoking villages.Fain would I rest, yet covet not to dieFor fear of future biting penury:No, no, my God, Thou know'st my wishes beTo leave this life, not loving it, but Thee.
Can I not come to Thee, my God, for theseSo very many meeting hindrances,That slack my pace, but yet not make me stay?Who slowly goes, rids, in the end, his way.Clear Thou my paths, or shorten Thou my miles,Remove the bars, or lift me o'er the stiles;Since rough the way is, help me when I call,And take me up; or else prevent the fall.I ken my home, and it affords some easeTo see far off the smoking villages.Fain would I rest, yet covet not to dieFor fear of future biting penury:No, no, my God, Thou know'st my wishes beTo leave this life, not loving it, but Thee.
Can I not come to Thee, my God, for theseSo very many meeting hindrances,That slack my pace, but yet not make me stay?Who slowly goes, rids, in the end, his way.Clear Thou my paths, or shorten Thou my miles,Remove the bars, or lift me o'er the stiles;Since rough the way is, help me when I call,And take me up; or else prevent the fall.I ken my home, and it affords some easeTo see far off the smoking villages.Fain would I rest, yet covet not to dieFor fear of future biting penury:No, no, my God, Thou know'st my wishes beTo leave this life, not loving it, but Thee.
Rids way, gets over the ground.
Thou bid'st me come; I cannot come; for why?Thou dwell'st aloft, and I want wings to fly.To mount my soul, she must have pinions given;For 'tis no easy way from earth to heaven.
Thou bid'st me come; I cannot come; for why?Thou dwell'st aloft, and I want wings to fly.To mount my soul, she must have pinions given;For 'tis no easy way from earth to heaven.
Thou bid'st me come; I cannot come; for why?Thou dwell'st aloft, and I want wings to fly.To mount my soul, she must have pinions given;For 'tis no easy way from earth to heaven.
Thou bid'st me come away,And I'll no longer stayThan for to shed some tearsFor faults of former years,And to repent some crimesDone in the present times:And next, to take a bitOf bread, and wine with it:To don my robes of love,Fit for the place above;To gird my loins aboutWith charity throughout;And so to travel henceWith feet of innocence:These done, I'll only cryGod mercy, and so die.
Thou bid'st me come away,And I'll no longer stayThan for to shed some tearsFor faults of former years,And to repent some crimesDone in the present times:And next, to take a bitOf bread, and wine with it:To don my robes of love,Fit for the place above;To gird my loins aboutWith charity throughout;And so to travel henceWith feet of innocence:These done, I'll only cryGod mercy, and so die.
Thou bid'st me come away,And I'll no longer stayThan for to shed some tearsFor faults of former years,And to repent some crimesDone in the present times:And next, to take a bitOf bread, and wine with it:To don my robes of love,Fit for the place above;To gird my loins aboutWith charity throughout;And so to travel henceWith feet of innocence:These done, I'll only cryGod mercy, and so die.
God will have all, or none; serve Him, or fallDown before Baal, Bel, or Belial:Either be hot or cold: God doth despise,Abhor, and spew out all neutralities.
God will have all, or none; serve Him, or fallDown before Baal, Bel, or Belial:Either be hot or cold: God doth despise,Abhor, and spew out all neutralities.
God will have all, or none; serve Him, or fallDown before Baal, Bel, or Belial:Either be hot or cold: God doth despise,Abhor, and spew out all neutralities.
Whatever comes, let's be content withal:Among God's blessings there is no one small.
Whatever comes, let's be content withal:Among God's blessings there is no one small.
Whatever comes, let's be content withal:Among God's blessings there is no one small.
Through all the nightThou dost me fright,And hold'st mine eyes from sleeping;And day by day,My cup can sayMy wine is mix'd with weeping.Thou dost my breadWith ashes kneadEach evening and each morrow;Mine eye and earDo see and hearThe coming in of sorrow.Thy scourge of steel,Ah me! I feelUpon me beating ever:While my sick heartWith dismal smartIs disacquainted never.Long, long, I'm sure,This can't endure,But in short time 'twill please Thee,My gentle God,To burn the rod,Or strike so as to ease me.
Through all the nightThou dost me fright,And hold'st mine eyes from sleeping;And day by day,My cup can sayMy wine is mix'd with weeping.Thou dost my breadWith ashes kneadEach evening and each morrow;Mine eye and earDo see and hearThe coming in of sorrow.Thy scourge of steel,Ah me! I feelUpon me beating ever:While my sick heartWith dismal smartIs disacquainted never.Long, long, I'm sure,This can't endure,But in short time 'twill please Thee,My gentle God,To burn the rod,Or strike so as to ease me.
Through all the nightThou dost me fright,And hold'st mine eyes from sleeping;And day by day,My cup can sayMy wine is mix'd with weeping.
Thou dost my breadWith ashes kneadEach evening and each morrow;Mine eye and earDo see and hearThe coming in of sorrow.
Thy scourge of steel,Ah me! I feelUpon me beating ever:While my sick heartWith dismal smartIs disacquainted never.
Long, long, I'm sure,This can't endure,But in short time 'twill please Thee,My gentle God,To burn the rod,Or strike so as to ease me.
Abundant plagues I late have had,Yet none of these have made me sad:For why? My Saviour with the senseOf suff'ring gives me patience.
Abundant plagues I late have had,Yet none of these have made me sad:For why? My Saviour with the senseOf suff'ring gives me patience.
Abundant plagues I late have had,Yet none of these have made me sad:For why? My Saviour with the senseOf suff'ring gives me patience.
O years! and age! farewell:Behold, I goWhere I do knowInfinity to dwell.And these mine eyes shall seeAll times, how theyAre lost i' th' seaOf vast eternity.Where never moon shall swayThe stars; but sheAnd night shall beDrown'd in one endless day.
O years! and age! farewell:Behold, I goWhere I do knowInfinity to dwell.And these mine eyes shall seeAll times, how theyAre lost i' th' seaOf vast eternity.Where never moon shall swayThe stars; but sheAnd night shall beDrown'd in one endless day.
O years! and age! farewell:Behold, I goWhere I do knowInfinity to dwell.
And these mine eyes shall seeAll times, how theyAre lost i' th' seaOf vast eternity.
Where never moon shall swayThe stars; but sheAnd night shall beDrown'd in one endless day.
Go, pretty child, and bear this flowerUnto thy little Saviour;And tell Him, by that bud now blown,He is the Rose of Sharon known.When thou hast said so, stick it thereUpon His bib or stomacher;And tell Him, for good handsel too,That thou hast brought a whistle new,Made of a clean strait oaten reed,To charm His cries at time of need.Tell Him, for coral, thou hast none,But if thou hadst, He should have one;But poor thou art, and known to beEven as moneyless as He.Lastly, if thou canst win a kissFrom those mellifluous lips of His;Then never take a second on,To spoil the first impression.
Go, pretty child, and bear this flowerUnto thy little Saviour;And tell Him, by that bud now blown,He is the Rose of Sharon known.When thou hast said so, stick it thereUpon His bib or stomacher;And tell Him, for good handsel too,That thou hast brought a whistle new,Made of a clean strait oaten reed,To charm His cries at time of need.Tell Him, for coral, thou hast none,But if thou hadst, He should have one;But poor thou art, and known to beEven as moneyless as He.Lastly, if thou canst win a kissFrom those mellifluous lips of His;Then never take a second on,To spoil the first impression.
Go, pretty child, and bear this flowerUnto thy little Saviour;And tell Him, by that bud now blown,He is the Rose of Sharon known.When thou hast said so, stick it thereUpon His bib or stomacher;And tell Him, for good handsel too,That thou hast brought a whistle new,Made of a clean strait oaten reed,To charm His cries at time of need.Tell Him, for coral, thou hast none,But if thou hadst, He should have one;But poor thou art, and known to beEven as moneyless as He.Lastly, if thou canst win a kissFrom those mellifluous lips of His;Then never take a second on,To spoil the first impression.
Handsel, earnest money.
Let others look for pearl and gold,Tissues, or tabbies manifold:One only lock of that sweet hayWhereon the blessed baby lay,Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall beThe richest New-Year's gift to me.
Let others look for pearl and gold,Tissues, or tabbies manifold:One only lock of that sweet hayWhereon the blessed baby lay,Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall beThe richest New-Year's gift to me.
Let others look for pearl and gold,Tissues, or tabbies manifold:One only lock of that sweet hayWhereon the blessed baby lay,Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall beThe richest New-Year's gift to me.
Tabbies, shot silks.
If anything delight me for to printMy book, 'tis this: that Thou, my God, art in't.
If anything delight me for to printMy book, 'tis this: that Thou, my God, art in't.
If anything delight me for to printMy book, 'tis this: that Thou, my God, art in't.
How am I bound to Two! God, who doth giveThe mind; the king, the means whereby I live.
How am I bound to Two! God, who doth giveThe mind; the king, the means whereby I live.
How am I bound to Two! God, who doth giveThe mind; the king, the means whereby I live.
Where God is merry, there write down thy fears:What He with laughter speaks, hear thou with tears.
Where God is merry, there write down thy fears:What He with laughter speaks, hear thou with tears.
Where God is merry, there write down thy fears:What He with laughter speaks, hear thou with tears.
Give me honours! what are these,But the pleasing hindrances?Stiles, and stops, and stays that comeIn the way 'twixt me and home;Clear the walk, and then shall ITo my heaven less run than fly.
Give me honours! what are these,But the pleasing hindrances?Stiles, and stops, and stays that comeIn the way 'twixt me and home;Clear the walk, and then shall ITo my heaven less run than fly.
Give me honours! what are these,But the pleasing hindrances?Stiles, and stops, and stays that comeIn the way 'twixt me and home;Clear the walk, and then shall ITo my heaven less run than fly.
To a love-feast we both invited are:The figur'd damask, or pure diaper,Over the golden altar now is spread,With bread, and wine, and vessels furnished;The sacred towel and the holy ewerAre ready by, to make the guests all pure:Let's go, my Alma; yet, ere we receive,Fit, fit it is we have our parasceve.Who to that sweet bread unprepar'd doth come,Better be starv'd, than but to taste one crumb.
To a love-feast we both invited are:The figur'd damask, or pure diaper,Over the golden altar now is spread,With bread, and wine, and vessels furnished;The sacred towel and the holy ewerAre ready by, to make the guests all pure:Let's go, my Alma; yet, ere we receive,Fit, fit it is we have our parasceve.Who to that sweet bread unprepar'd doth come,Better be starv'd, than but to taste one crumb.
To a love-feast we both invited are:The figur'd damask, or pure diaper,Over the golden altar now is spread,With bread, and wine, and vessels furnished;The sacred towel and the holy ewerAre ready by, to make the guests all pure:Let's go, my Alma; yet, ere we receive,Fit, fit it is we have our parasceve.Who to that sweet bread unprepar'd doth come,Better be starv'd, than but to taste one crumb.
Parasceve, preparation.
God gives not only corn for need,But likewise sup'rabundant seed;Bread for our service, bread for show,Meat for our meals, and fragments too:He gives not poorly, taking someBetween the finger and the thumb;But for our glut and for our store,Fine flour press'd down, and running o'er.
God gives not only corn for need,But likewise sup'rabundant seed;Bread for our service, bread for show,Meat for our meals, and fragments too:He gives not poorly, taking someBetween the finger and the thumb;But for our glut and for our store,Fine flour press'd down, and running o'er.
God gives not only corn for need,But likewise sup'rabundant seed;Bread for our service, bread for show,Meat for our meals, and fragments too:He gives not poorly, taking someBetween the finger and the thumb;But for our glut and for our store,Fine flour press'd down, and running o'er.
Although we cannot turn the fervent fitOf sin, we must strive 'gainst the stream of it;And howsoe'er we have the conquest miss'd,'Tis for our glory that we did resist.
Although we cannot turn the fervent fitOf sin, we must strive 'gainst the stream of it;And howsoe'er we have the conquest miss'd,'Tis for our glory that we did resist.
Although we cannot turn the fervent fitOf sin, we must strive 'gainst the stream of it;And howsoe'er we have the conquest miss'd,'Tis for our glory that we did resist.
Christ, He requires still, wheresoe'er He comesTo feed or lodge, to have the best of rooms:Give Him the choice; grant Him the nobler partOf all the house: the best of all's the heart.
Christ, He requires still, wheresoe'er He comesTo feed or lodge, to have the best of rooms:Give Him the choice; grant Him the nobler partOf all the house: the best of all's the heart.
Christ, He requires still, wheresoe'er He comesTo feed or lodge, to have the best of rooms:Give Him the choice; grant Him the nobler partOf all the house: the best of all's the heart.
God could have made all rich, or all men poor;But why He did not, let me tell wherefore:Had all been rich, where then had patience been?Had all been poor, who had His bounty seen?
God could have made all rich, or all men poor;But why He did not, let me tell wherefore:Had all been rich, where then had patience been?Had all been poor, who had His bounty seen?
God could have made all rich, or all men poor;But why He did not, let me tell wherefore:Had all been rich, where then had patience been?Had all been poor, who had His bounty seen?
To seek of God more than we well can find,Argues a strong distemper of the mind.
To seek of God more than we well can find,Argues a strong distemper of the mind.
To seek of God more than we well can find,Argues a strong distemper of the mind.
Give, if thou canst, an alms; if not, afford,Instead of that, a sweet and gentle word:God crowns our goodness wheresoe'er He sees,On our part, wanting all abilities.
Give, if thou canst, an alms; if not, afford,Instead of that, a sweet and gentle word:God crowns our goodness wheresoe'er He sees,On our part, wanting all abilities.
Give, if thou canst, an alms; if not, afford,Instead of that, a sweet and gentle word:God crowns our goodness wheresoe'er He sees,On our part, wanting all abilities.
Can I not sin, but thou wilt beMy private protonotary?Can I not woo thee to pass byA short and sweet iniquity?I'll cast a mist and cloud uponMy delicate transgressionSo utter dark as that no eyeShall see the hugg'd impiety;Gifts blind the wise, and bribes do pleaseAnd wind all other witnesses;And wilt not thou with gold be ti'dTo lay thy pen and ink aside?That in the mirk and tongueless nightWanton I may, and thou not write?It will not be. And, therefore, now,For times to come I'll make this vow,From aberrations to live free;So I'll not fear the Judge or thee.
Can I not sin, but thou wilt beMy private protonotary?Can I not woo thee to pass byA short and sweet iniquity?I'll cast a mist and cloud uponMy delicate transgressionSo utter dark as that no eyeShall see the hugg'd impiety;Gifts blind the wise, and bribes do pleaseAnd wind all other witnesses;And wilt not thou with gold be ti'dTo lay thy pen and ink aside?That in the mirk and tongueless nightWanton I may, and thou not write?It will not be. And, therefore, now,For times to come I'll make this vow,From aberrations to live free;So I'll not fear the Judge or thee.
Can I not sin, but thou wilt beMy private protonotary?Can I not woo thee to pass byA short and sweet iniquity?I'll cast a mist and cloud uponMy delicate transgressionSo utter dark as that no eyeShall see the hugg'd impiety;Gifts blind the wise, and bribes do pleaseAnd wind all other witnesses;And wilt not thou with gold be ti'dTo lay thy pen and ink aside?That in the mirk and tongueless nightWanton I may, and thou not write?It will not be. And, therefore, now,For times to come I'll make this vow,From aberrations to live free;So I'll not fear the Judge or thee.
Protonotary, once the title of the chief clerk in the Courts of Common Pleas and King's Bench.
Lord, I confess, that Thou alone art ableTo purify this my Augean stable:Be the seas water, and the land all soap,Yet if Thy blood not wash me, there's no hope.
Lord, I confess, that Thou alone art ableTo purify this my Augean stable:Be the seas water, and the land all soap,Yet if Thy blood not wash me, there's no hope.
Lord, I confess, that Thou alone art ableTo purify this my Augean stable:Be the seas water, and the land all soap,Yet if Thy blood not wash me, there's no hope.
God is all sufferance here; here He doth showNo arrow nockt, only a stringless bow:His arrows fly, and all His stones are hurl'dAgainst the wicked in another world.
God is all sufferance here; here He doth showNo arrow nockt, only a stringless bow:His arrows fly, and all His stones are hurl'dAgainst the wicked in another world.
God is all sufferance here; here He doth showNo arrow nockt, only a stringless bow:His arrows fly, and all His stones are hurl'dAgainst the wicked in another world.
Nockt, placed ready for shooting.
I dreamt, last night, Thou didst transfuseOil from Thy jar into my cruse;And pouring still Thy wealthy store,The vessel full did then run o'er;Methought I did Thy bounty chideTo see the waste; but 'twas repliedBy Thee, dear God, God gives man seedOfttimes for waste, as for his need.Then I could say that house is bareThat has not bread and some to spare.
I dreamt, last night, Thou didst transfuseOil from Thy jar into my cruse;And pouring still Thy wealthy store,The vessel full did then run o'er;Methought I did Thy bounty chideTo see the waste; but 'twas repliedBy Thee, dear God, God gives man seedOfttimes for waste, as for his need.Then I could say that house is bareThat has not bread and some to spare.
I dreamt, last night, Thou didst transfuseOil from Thy jar into my cruse;And pouring still Thy wealthy store,The vessel full did then run o'er;Methought I did Thy bounty chideTo see the waste; but 'twas repliedBy Thee, dear God, God gives man seedOfttimes for waste, as for his need.Then I could say that house is bareThat has not bread and some to spare.