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3 Some nights I see you in the gladsome east,

Some others near the west, And when I cannot see, yet do

And beat about your endless line.

you shine,

4 Silence and light and watchfulness with you

Attend and wind the clue;
No sleep nor sloth assails you, but poor man

Still either sleeps, or slips his span.

5 He gropes beneath here, and with restless care,

First makes, then hugs a snare;
Adores dead dust, sets heart on corn and grass,

But seldom doth make heaven his glass.

Take up

6 Music and mirth, if there be music here,

and tune his ear; These things are kin to him, and must be had;

Who kneels, or sighs a life, is mad.

you, and

7 Perhaps some nights he 'll watch with

peep When it were best to sleep; Dares know effects, and judge them long before,

When the herb he treads knows much, much more.

8 But seeks he your obedience, order, light,

Your calm and well-trained flight? Where, though the glory differ in each star,

Yet is there peace still and no war.

9 Since placed by him, who calls you by your names,

And fixed there all your flames, Without command you never acted ought,

And then you in your courses fought.

10 But here, commissioned by a black self-will,

The sons the father kill,
The children chase the mother, and would heal

The wounds they give by crying zeal.
11 Then cast her blood and tears upon thy book,

Where they for fashion look ;
And, like that lamb, which had the dragon's voice,

Seem mild, but are known by their noise. 12 Thus by our lusts disordered into wars,

Our guides prove wandering stars,
Which for these mists and black days were reserved,

What time we from our first love swerved.

13 Yet oh, for his sake who sits now by thee

All crowned with victory,
So guide us through this darkness, that we may

Be more and more in love with day!
14 Settle and fix our hearts, that we may move

In order, peace, and love;
And, taught obedience by thy whole creation,

Become an humble, holy nation!
15 Give to thy spouse her perfect and pure dress,

Beauty and holiness;
And so repair these rents, that men may see
And
say,

· Where God is, all agree.'

MISERY.

Lord, bind me up, and let me lie
A prisoner to my liberty,
If such a state at all can be
As an impris’ment serving thee;

The wind, though gathered in thy fist,
Yet doth it blow still where it list,
And yet shouldst thou let go thy hold,

, Those gusts might quarrel and grow

bold. As waters here, headlong and loose, The lower grounds still chase and choose, Where spreading all the way they seek And search out every hole and creek; So my spilt thoughts, winding from thee, Take the down-road to vanity, Where they all stray, and strive which shall Find out the first and steepest fall. I cheer their flow, giving supply To what's already grown too high, And having thus performed that part, Feed on those vomits of my heart. I break the fence my own hands made Then lay that trespass in the shade; Some fig-leaves still I do devise, As if thou hadst not ears nor eyes. Excess of friends, of words, and wine Take up my day, while thou dost shine All unregarded, and thy book Hath not so much as one poor look. If thou steal in amidst the mirth And kindly tell me, I am earth, I shut thee out, and let that slip; Such music spoils good fellowship. Thus wretched I and most unkind, Exclude my dear God from my mind, Exclude him thence, who of that cell Would make a court, should he there dwell. He

goes, he yields; and troubled sore His Holy Spirit grieves therefore;

(

The mighty God, the eternal King
Doth grieve for dust, and dust doth sing.
But I go on, haste to divest
Myself of reason, till oppressed
And buried in my surfeits, I
Prove my own shame and misery.
Next day I call and cry for thee
Who shouldst not then come near to me;
But now it is thy servant's pleasure,
Thou must and dost give him his measure.
Thou dost, thou com'st, and in a shower
Of healing sweets thyself dost pour
Into my wounds; and now thy grace
(I know it well) fills all the place;
I sit with thee by this new light,
And for that hour thou 'rt my delight;
No man can more the world despise,
Or thy great mercies better prize.
I school my eyes, and strictly dwell
Within the circle of my cell;

;
That calm and silence are my joys,
Which to thy peace are but mere noise.
At length I feel my head to ache,
My fingers itch, and burn to take
Some new employment, I begin
To swell and foam and fret within:

• The age, the present times are not
To snudge in and embrace a cot;
Action and blood now get the game,
Disdain treads on the peaceful name;
Who sits at home too bears a load

Greater than those that gad abroad.'
Thus do I make thy gifts given me
The only quarrellers with thee;

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VOL. II.

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I'd loose those knots thy hands did tie,
Then would go travel, fight, or die.
Thousands of wild and waste infusions
Like waves beat on my resolutions;
As flames about their fuel run,
And work and wind till all be done,
So my fierce soul bustles about,
And never rests till all be out.
Thus wilded by a peevish heart,
Which in thy music bears no part,
I storm at thee, calling my peace
A lethargy, and mere disease;
Nay those bright beams shot from thy eyes
To calm me in these mutinies,
I style mere tempers, which take place
At some set times, but are thy grace.

Such is man's life, and such is mine,
The worst of men, and yet still thine,
Still thine, thou know’st, and if not so,
Then give me over to my foe.
Yet since as easy ʼtis for thee
To make man good as bid him be,
And with one glance, could he that gain,
To look him out of all his pain,
Oh, send me from thy holy hill
So much of strength as may fulfil
All thy delights, whate'er they be,
And sacred institutes in me!
Open my rocky heart, and fill
It with obedience to thy will;
Then seal it up, that as none see,
So none may enter there but thee.

Oh, hear, my God! hear him, whose blood Speaks more and better for my good!

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