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bear better blessed bloud brave breast breath bring canst Christ Church dead deare death delight doore doth Drop dust earth ev'n ev'ry ev’n eyes face fair fall fear finde fire flesh flowers gain gave give glorie grace grief ground grow hand hath head heare heart heav'n hold holy hope houre joyes keep King leave lesse light live look Lord lost mark mean measure minde move musick never night once passe peace pleasure poore praise present rest rise seek serve shine sigh sing sinne sometimes sorrow soul spring stand starres stay stone sunne sure sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou didst thou dost thou hast thoughts tree true turn unto weep Wherefore wilt winde write
Side 113 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Side 197 - Not so, my heart; but there is fruit, And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not; forsake thy cage, Thy rope of sands, Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away; take heed: I will abroad. Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears. He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load.
Side 57 - When I got health, Thou took'st away my life, And more, — for my friends die: My mirth and edge was lost, a blunted knife Was of more use...
Side 231 - DISCIPLINE. THROW away thy rod. Throw away thy wrath 0 my God, Take the gentle path. For my heart's desire Unto thine is bent : I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace.
Side 51 - With Thee O let me rise As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day Thy victories : Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
Side 238 - 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
Side 213 - THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are Thy returns ! e'en as the flowers in spring , To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing.
Side 161 - PEACE. SWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell ? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And ask'd, if Peace were there. A hollow wind did seem to answer, No : Go seek elsewhere.
Side 251 - Upon Thine altar burnt? Cannot Thy love Heighten a spirit to sound out Thy praise As well as any she? Cannot Thy Dove Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight?