A part whereof my Saviour empted hath, But O, reprieve me! For thou hast life and death at thy command; LIX. THE WORLD. LOVE built a stately house; where Fortune came: Then Pleasure came, who, liking not the fashion, Till she had weaken'd all by alteration: Then enter'd Sin, and with that Sycamore, [dew, Whose leaves first shelter'd man from drought and Working and winding slily evermore, The inward walls and summers cleft and tore: But Grace shored these, and cut that as it grew. G Then Sin combined with Death in a firm band, To raze the building to the very floor : Which they effected, none could them withstand; But Love and Grace took Glory by the hand, And built a braver Palace than before. LX. COLOSS. III. 3. OUR LIFE IS HID WITH CHRIST IN GOD. My words and thoughts do both express this notion, LXI. VANITY. THE fleet Astronomer can bore And thred the spheres with his quick-piercing mind: He views their stations, walks from door to door, Surveys, as if he had design'd To make a purchase there he sees their dances, And knoweth long before, Both their full-ey'd aspects, and secret glances. The nimble Diver with his side Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch On purpose from the venturous wretch; That he might save his life, and also hers, Who with excessive pride Her own destruction and his danger wears. The subtile Chymic can divest And strip the creature naked, till he find The callow principles within their nest : There he imparts to them his mind, Admitted to their bed-chamber, before They appear trim and drest To ordinary suitors at the door. What hath not man sought out and found, But his dear God? who yet his glorious law Embosoms in us, mellowing the ground With showers and frosts, with love and awe; So that we need not say, Where's this command? Poor man! thou searchest round To find out death, but missest life at hand. LXII. LENT. WELCOME, dear feast of Lent: who loves not thee, He loves not Temperance, or Authority, But is composed of passion. The Scriptures bid us fast; the Church says, now: The humble soul composed of love and fear, He says, in things which use hath justly got, True Christians should be glad of an occasion Unless Authority, which should increase Besides the cleanness of sweet abstinence, Whereas in fulness there are sluttish fumes, Then those same pendent profits, which the spring Neither ought other men's abuse of Lent 'Tis true, we cannot reach Christ's fortieth day; Yet to go part of that religious way Is better than to rest: We cannot reach our Saviour's purity; Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone, Is much more sure to meet with him, than one That travelleth by-ways. Perhaps my God, though he be far before, Yet, Lord, instruct us to improve our fast That every man may revel at his door, LXIII. VIRTUE. SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives; But though the whole world turn to coal, |