I have no cares, O blessed Will!
For all my cares are thine;
I live in triumph, Lord! for Thou
Hast made Thy triumphs mine.

Ride on, ride on triumphantly,
Thou glorious Will! ride on;
Faith's pilgrim sons behind thee take
The road that thou hast gone.

He always wins who rides with God,
To him no chance is lost;
God's will is sweetest to him when
It triumphs at his cost.

Ill that He blesses is our good,
And noblest good is ill;

And all is right that seems most wrong,

If it be his sweet Will!

FABER.

HE THAT HATH THE SON, HATH

B

On

LIFE.

LESSED Creatour! let thine only
Sonne,

Sweete blossome, stock and roote
of David's line

The cleare, bright Morning-Starre give light and shine

my poor spirit; which hath new-begunne With his love's praise, and with vaine loves hath donne.

To my poor muse let him his ears incline
Thirsting to taste of that celestial wine

Whose purple streams hath our salvation wonne.
O gracious Bridegroom! and thrice lovely

Bride!

Which-Come and fill who will'-forever crie: 'Water of life to no man is deny'de; 'Fill still who will-if any man be drie,'

O heavenly voice! I thirst, I thirst, and come For life with other sinners to get some.

BARNABAS BARNES, (1596.)

DELIGHT IN GOD ONLY.

LOVE (and have some cause to love) the earth;

She is my Maker's creature; therefore
good:

She is my mother, for she gave me birth;
She is my tender nurse-she gives me food;
But what's a creature, Lord, compared with
Thee?

Or what's my mother, or my nurse to me?

I love the air: her dainty sweets refresh

My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me; Her shrill-mouthed quire sustains me with their flesh,

And with their polyphonian notes delight me: But what's the air or all the sweets that she Can bless my soul withal, compared to Thee?

I love the sea: she is my

fellow creature,

My careful purveyor; she provides me store: She walls me round; she makes my diet greater;

She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore: But Lord of Oceans, when compared with Thee, What is the ocean or her wealth to me?

To Heaven's high city I direct my journey, Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye: Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney,

Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky; But what is Heaven, great God, to Thee? Without Thy presence, heaven's no heaven

to me.

Without Thy presence earth gives no refection; Without Thy presence sea affords no treasure ; Without Thy presence air's a rank infection; Without Thy presence heaven itself no pleas

ure:

If not possess'd, if not enjoy'd in Thee,
What's earth or sea or air or heaven to me?

The highest honours that the world can boast,
Are subjects far too low for my desires;
The brightest beams of glory are (at most)
But dying sparkles of Thy living fire.
The loudest flames that earth can kindle, be
But nightly glow-worms, if compared to Thee.

Without Thy presence wealth is bags of cares; Wisdom but folly; joy disquiet-sadness : Friendship is treason, and delights are snares, Pleasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing madness.

Without Thee, Lord, things be not what they be,

Nor have they being when compared with Thee.

In having all things, and not Thee, what have I?
Not having Thee, what have my labours got?
Let me enjoy but Thee, what further crave I?
And having Thee alone, what have I not?
I wish nor sea nor land; nor would I be
Possessed of Heaven, heaven unpossess'd of