So that again I now am mine,

And with advantage mine the more.
Since this being mine, brings with it Thine,
And Thou with me dost Thee restore.

If I without Thee would be mine,
I neither should be mine nor Thine.

Lord, I am Thine, and Thou art mine:
So mine Thou art, that something more
I may presume Thee mine, than Thine.
For Thou didst suffer to restore
Not Thee, but me, and to be mine:
And with advantage mine the more,
Since Thou in death wast none of Thine,
Yet then as mine didst me restore.

O be mine still! still make me Thine;
Or rather make no Thine and Mine!

PRAISE.

LORD, I will mean and speak Thy praise,
Thy praise alone.

My busy heart shall spin it all my days;
And when it stops for want of store,
Then will I wring it with a sigh or groan,
That Thou may'st yet have more.

When Thou dost favor any action,
It runs, it flies;

All things concur to give it a perfection.
That which had but two legs before,

When Thou dost bless, hath twelve: one wheel doth rise

To twenty then, or more.

But when Thou dost on business blow,
It hangs, it clogs:

Not all the teams of Albion in a row

Can hale or draw it out of door.

Legs are but stumps, and Pharaoh's wheels but logs,

And struggling hinders more.

Thousands of things do Thee employ
In ruling all

This spacious globe: Angels must have their joy,
Devils their rod, the sea his shore,

The winds their stint; and yet, when I did call, Thou heardst my call, and more.

I have not lost one single tear:
But when mine eyes

Did weep to heaven, they found a bottle there,
(As we have boxes for the poor,)
Ready to take them in; yet of a size

That would contain much more.

But after Thou hadst slipt a drop
From Thy right eye,

(Which there did hang like streamers near the top
Of some fair church, to show the sore
And bloody battle which Thou once didst try,)
The glass was full and more.

Wherefore I sing. Yet since my heart,
Though press'd, runs thin;
O that I might some other hearts convert,
And so take up at use good store;
That to Thy chests there might be coming in
Both all my praise, and more!

JOSEPH'S COAT.

WOUNDED I sing, tormented I endite,
Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest.
Sorrow hath changed its note: such is His will
Who changeth all things as Him pleaseth best.

For well He knows, if but one grief and smart
Among my many had his full career,
Sure it would carry with it e'en my heart,
And both would run until they found a bier

To fetch the body; both being due to grief. But He hath spoil'd the race; and given to anguish

One of joy's coats, 'ticing it with relief

To linger in me, and together languish.

I live to show His power, Who once did bring
My joys to weep, and now my griefs to sing.

THE PULLEY.

WHEN God at first made man,

Having a glass of blessing standing by,
Let us, said He, pour on him all we can:
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way;

Then beauty flow'd; then wisdom, honor, pleas

ure:

When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.

For if I should, said He,

Bestow this jewel also on My creature,
He would adore My gifts instead of Me,
And rest in nature, not the God of nature:
So both should losers be.

Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness:
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.

THE PRIESTHOOD.

BLEST Order, which in power doth so excel,
That with the one hand thou liftest to the sky,
And with the other throwest down to hell
In thy just censures; fain would I draw nigh;
Fain put thee on, exchanging my lay sword
For that of the Holy Word.

But thou art fire, sacred and hallow'd fire;
And I but earth and clay: should I presume
To wear thy habit, the severe attire
My slender compositions might consume.
I am both foul and brittle, much unfit

To deal in Holy Writ.

Yet have I often seen, by cunning hand

And force of fire, what curious things are made Of wretched earth. Where once I scorn'd to

stand,

That earth is fitted by the fire and trade

Of skilful artists, for the boards of those

Who make the bravest shows.

But since those great ones, be they ne'er so great, Come from the earth, from whence those vessels

come;

M