Look on my sorrows round! Mark well my furnace! O what flames, What heats abound!

What griefs, what shames!

Consider, Lord; Lord, bow Thine ear,
And hear!

Lord Jesu, Thou didst bow Thy dying Head upon the tree: O be not now

More dead to me!

Lord, hear! Shall He that made the ear Not hear?

It

Behold, Thy dust doth stir; moves, it creeps, it aims at Thee: Wilt Thou defer

To succor me,

Thy pile of dust, wherein each crumb

Says, Come?

To Thee help appertains.

Hast Thou left all things to their course,

And laid the reins

Upon the horse?

Is all lock'd?

Hath a sinner's plea

No key?

Indeed, the world's Thy book,

Where all things have their leaf assign'd;

Yet a meek look

Hath interlined.

Thy board is full, yet humble guests
Find nests.

Thou tarriest, while I die,
And fall to nothing: Thou dost reign,
And rule on high,

While I remain

In bitter grief: yet am I styled
Thy child.

Lord, didst Thou leave Thy throne, Not to relieve? How can it be,

That Thou art grown

Thus hard to me?

Were sin alive, good cause there were
To bear.

But now both sin is dead,
And all Thy promises live and bide.
That wants his head;

These speak and chide,

And in Thy bosom pour my tears,
As theirs.

Lord JESU, hear my heart, Which hath been broken now so long, That every part

Hath got a tongue!

AWAY, Despair; my gracious Lord doth hear,
Though winds and waves assault my keel,
He doth preserve it: He doth steer,
E'en when the boat seems most to reel.
Storms are the triumph of His art:

Well may He close His eyes, but not His heart.

Hast thou not heard that my Lord Jesus died?
Then let me tell thee a strange story.
The God of power, as He did ride
In His majestic robes of glory,
Resolved to light; and so one day

He did descend, undressing all the way.

The stars His tire of light and rings obtain❜d,
The cloud His bow, the fire His spear,

The sky His azure mantle gain'd.
And when they ask'd what He would wear,

He smiled, and said, as He did go,

He had new clothes a making here below.

When He was come, as travellers are wont,
He did repair unto an inn.

Both then and after, many a brunt
He did endure to cancel sin:

And having given the rest before,
Here He gave up His life to pay our score.

But as He was returning, there came one
That ran upon Him with a spear.
He who came hither all alone,

Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear,
Received the blow upon His side,

And straight He turn'd and to His brethren cried,

If ye

have anything to send or write

(I have no bag, but here is room)
Unto My Father's hands and sight,
(Believe Me,) it shall safely come.

That I shall mind what you impart,
Look, you may put it very near My heart.

Or, if hereafter any of My friends

Will use Me in this kind, the door
Shall still be open. What he sends
I will present, and somewhat more,

Not to his hurt. Sighs will convey Anything to Me. Hark, Despair, away!

THE JEWS.

POOR nation, whose sweet sap and juice Our scions have purloin'd, and left you dry; Whose streams we got by the Apostles' sluice And use in baptism, while ye pine and die : Who, by not keeping once, became a debtor; And now by keeping lose the letter:

O that my prayers! mine, alas! O that some Angel might a trumpet sound, At which the Church, falling upon her face, Should cry so loud, until the trump were drown'd, And by that cry of her dear Lord obtain,

That your sweet sap might come again!

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 as store.

Shall I be still in suit?