Yet when the hour of thy design VANITY. O HEAR betimes, lest thy relenting To purchase heaven for repenting, If souls be made of earthly mold, If born on high, Let them unto their kindred fly: For they can never be at rest, Till they regain their ancient nest. Then, silly soul, take heed; for earthly joy Is but a bubble, and makes thee a boy. BUSINESS. CANST be idle, can'st thou play, Rivers run, and springs each one If, poor soul, thou hast no tears, Winds still work; it is their plot, If thou hast no sighs or groans, Would thou hadst no flesh and bones! Lesser pains 'scape greater ones. But if yet thou idle be, Foolish soul, who died for thee? Who did leave his Father's throne, If he had not liv'd 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, Tells to all he meets, bis cross: He that hath sins, hath he no loss? He that finds a silver vein, Thinks on it, and thinks again; Who in heart not ever kneels, DULNESS. WHY do I languish thus, drooping and dull, As if I were all earth? O give me quickness, that I may with mirth Praise thee brimfull! 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 undeserv'd, makes thee When all perfections as but one appear, The very dust, where thou dost tread and go, Where are my lines, then? my approaches? views? Where are my window-songs? Lovers are still pretending, and ev'n wrongs But I am lost in flesh, whose sugar'd lies Sure thou didst put a mind there if I could Lord, clear thy gift, that with a constant wit : Look only for to love thee, who can be, 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; mute. Man is the world's high-priest; he doth present The sacrifice for all; while they below 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; Wherefore, most sacred Spirit, I here present, We all acknowledge both thy power and love For either thy command or thy permission Nothing escapes them both; all must appear, And be dispos'd, and dress'd, and tun'd by thee, Who sweetly temper'st all. If we could hear Thy skill and art, what music would it be ! Thou art in small things great, not small in any; |