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And exalts you to the sky :
Here is love, which, having breath

E'en in death,
After death can never die.

Lord I have invited all,

And I shall Still invite, still call to thee : For it seems but just and right

In my sight, Where is all, there all should be.

CLIII. THE BANQUET.

With me,

in me,

WELCOME sweet and sacred cheer,

Welcome dear;

live and dwell : For thy neatness passeth sight,

Thy delight Passeth tongue to taste or tell.

O what sweetness from the bowl

Fills my soul,
Such as is, and makes divine !
Is some star (filed from the sphere)

Melted there,
As we sugar melt in wine ?

Or hath sweetness in the bread

Made a head To subdue the smell of sin, Flowers, and gums, and powders giving

All their living, Lest the enemy should win ?

Doubtless neither star nor flower

Hath the power Such a sweetness to impart : Only God, who gives perfumes,

Flesh assumes, And with it perfumes my heart.

But as Pomanders and wood

Still are good, Yet being bruised are better scented ; God, to show how far his love

Could improve, Here, as broken, is presented.

When I had forgot my birth,

And on earth In delights of earth was drown'd; God took blood, and needs would be

Spilt with me, And so found me on the ground.

Having raised me to look up,

In a cup

Sweetly he doth meet my taste.
But I still being low and short,

Far from court,
Wine becomes a wing at last.

For with it alone I fly

To the sky: Where I wipe mine eyes,

and see What I seek, for what I sue ;

Him I view Who hath done so much for me.

Let the wonder of this pity

Be my ditty,
And take up my lines and life:
Hearken under pain of death,

Hands and breath,
Strive in this, and love the strife.

CLIV. THE POSY.

Let wits contest,
And with their words and posies windows fill :

Less than the least
Of all thy mercies, is my posy still.

This on my ring,
This by my picture, in my book I write ;

Whether I sing,
Or say, or dictate, this is my delight.

Invention rest;
Comparisons go play; wit use thy will :

Less than the least
Of all God's mercies, is my posy still.

CLV. A PARODY.

Soul's joy, when thou art gone,

And I alone,

Which cannot be,
Because thou dost abide with me,

And I depend on thee;

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Yet when thou dost suppress

The cheerfulness

Of thy abode,
And in my powers not stir abroad,

But leave me to my load :

O what a damp and shade

Doth me invade !

No stormy night Can so afflict or so affright

As thy eclipsed light.

Ah Lord ! do not withdraw,

Lest want of awe

Make sin appear ; And when thou dost but shine less clear,

Say that thou art not here.

And then what life I have,

While sin doth rave,

And falsely boast,
That I may seek, but thou art lost;

Thou and alone thou know'st.

O what a deadly cold

Doth me infold !

I half believe, That Sin says true: but while I grieve,

Thou comest and dost relieve.

CLVI. THE ELIXIR,

Teach me, my God and King,

In all things thee to see, And what I do in any thing,

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 his 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 the 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.

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