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.


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.


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.


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.


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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