THE ELIXIR.

TEACH me, my God and King,
In all things Thee to see,
And what I do in anything,
To do it as for Thee:

Not rudely, as a beast,

To run into an action;
But still to make Thee prepossest,
And give it his perfection.

A man that looks on glass,
On it may stay his eye;
Or if he pleaseth, through it pass,
And then the heaven espy.

All may of Thee partake:

Nothing can be so mean,

Which with this tincture (for Thy sake) Will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause
Makes drudgery divine :

Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws,

Makes that and th' action fine.

This is the famous stone

That turneth all to gold:

For that which God doth touch and own
Cannot for less be told.

A WREATH.

A WREATHED garland of deserved praise,
Of praise deserved, unto Thee I give ;
I give to Thee, who knowest all my ways,
My crooked winding ways, wherein I live;
Wherein I die, not live; for life is straight,
Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee,
To Thee, who art more far above deceit,
Than deceit seems above simplicity.
Give me simplicity, that I may live,

So live and like, that I may know Thy ways, Know them and practise them: then shall I give For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise.

DEATH.

DEATH, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, Nothing but bones,

The sad effect of sadder groans :

Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing.

For we considered thee as at some six

Or ten years hence,

After the loss of life and sense,

Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to sticks.

We look'd on this side of thee, shooting short; Where we did find

The shells of fledge souls left behind, Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort.

But since our Saviour's death did put some blood Into thy face,

Thou art grown fair and full of grace, Much in request, much sought for, as a good.

For we do now behold thee gay and glad,
As at doomsday;

When souls shall wear their new array, And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad.

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust
Half that we have

Unto an honest faithful grave;

Making our pillows either down or dust.

DOOMSDAY.

COME away,

Make no delay.

Summon all the dust to rise,

Till it stir, and rub the eyes;

While this member jogs the other,

Each one whispering, Live

you,

Brother?

Come away,

Make this the day.

Dust, alas! no music feels,

But thy trumpet: then it kneels,
As peculiar notes and strains
Cure Tarantula's raging pains.

Come away,

O make no stay!

Let the graves make their confession,
Lest at length they plead possession:
Flesh's stubbornness may have
Read that lesson to the grave.

Come away,

Thy flock doth stray.

Some to the winds their body lend,
And in them may drown a friend:
Some in noisome vapors grow
To a plague and public woe.

Come away,

Help our decay.

Man is out of order hurl'd,
Parcell'd out to all the world.
Lord, Thy broken concert raise,
And the music shall be praise.

JUDGMENT.

ALMIGHTY Judge, how shall poor wretches brook Thy dreadful look,

Able a heart of iron to appall,

When Thou shalt call

For every man's peculiar book?

What others mean to do, I know not well;
Yet I hear tell,

That some will turn Thee to some leaves therein
So void of sin,

That they in merit shall excel.

But I resolve, when Thou shalt call for mine,
That to decline,

And thrust a Testament into Thy hand:

Let that be scann'd.

There Thou shalt find my faults are Thine.