A good morrow fancy, to E. H.

At the first Glimmering Dawn the morn sends forth
What can ther be of more Esteem and worth
On Contemplations skoar than to indite
With Holy David praise to th'Lord of light
And though my viall and my Harp stand stil
I shall awake my Hart, my Tongue, my Quil
To Regester what may be rought or sayd
From Meditating thoughts begot a bed
And in the stead of mischief thence contrive
The amplitude of his Prerogative
Who Governs all whilst with Obedient rest
I doe conclude what ere befalls me best
When under that Protection, and my bliss
Whither I sleep or wake to be found His