Now Hee's interr'd that all the World intombes,
But in the Center of his Court diuine;
Yet least Point of that Center, now, enwombes
This Lord, whose greatnesse nothing can containe!
Gods Peace be with Him, sith Hee's God of Peace,
Till by his pow'r He makes his Death decease.

Vnheau'n your selues, ye holy Cherubins,
And giue attendance on your Lord, in Earth:
Couer his Corps with your Celestiall wings,
From all that naturally annoyes beneath:
Descend sweet Angels (Legioniz'd in Rankes)
And make your Heau'n on his Sepulchers Bankes.

There warble forth your Hymnes of highest praise,
In highest honour, of your highest Lord:
And Lullabie asleep his Watchers Eies,
With secret Soule-enchanting sweet concords:
Whiles with Eie-blinding Beames of Glory dight,
He faire amounts, to frolicke his Saints sight!

But tell me, O thou fairest Faire of Men,
Where do'st thou lodge? at Noone-day, where do'st sleep?
O tell my Soule, and Shee will find Thee then,
And, as her Soule, Thee found, will safely keep:
For, Thou more cleere than Springs of Esebon
Hast made Her, with thy more cleere, Blood alone!

Thy Wintry Woes are past, Spights storms are ceas'd
Now flowres of Comfort, burgen eu'ry where:
Then rise my Loue (thou canst not be diseas'd)
Out of the Rockes Holes rise, to mee appeare:
And, in the Holes of Thee, her refuge Rocke,
My Soule from deadly Sinne, and Shame vp-locke.

Out of this Rocke (as out of Paradise)
Runne (through the Mosse of my most feeble Flesh)
Vnto my Soule (all soil'd with Sinne, and Vice)
Gihons of golden streames, her to refresh:
So, may it runne, O still so may it runne,
Till it hath made her, blacke, as bright as sunne.

O Gates of Heau'n, orientall, glorious Gates!
O Wounds! no Wounds, but Hau'ns of Heau'n secure!
Neasts of cleane Doues, and Forts from fellest Fates!
Blessed Balme-Boxes, that all sores recure!
O let me liuing die, and dying liue,
In these most holy Wounds that Life doe giue!

O let these Wounds these Woundes indeprauate
Be holy Sanctuaries for my whole Man;
That though sinnes sores It oft coninquinate,
Yet, there, it may be made as white as Swanne!
O holy Wounds! Wounds holier than all Holies,
Still let your Bloods, be Floods, t'ingulph my Folies.

When Woes doe wound me, wind me in thy Wounds
Sweet Iesus , that for me, with Woe, wast wounded;
When Foes, by Wounds, my Bodies life confound,
Then let my Soule in thy Wounds be surrounded:
There, let Her rest securely, till shee may
By thy high Grace, resume, in Blisse, her Clay.

When carnall Lust, my Flesh, (fraile Flesh) inflames
Then quench the same in thy Wounds, bleeding still:
When Furie, with strong hand, my Mind vnframes,
Then in thy Wounds reforme It to thy Will:
In few, by this most bloody Immolation,
Let my by-parted selfe haue whole Saluation.

And thou, O iust commander of this All!
To please whose Iustice, Iustice Death endur'd;
Thou, that That death mad'st most patheticall,
Inspire me with Loue, Hope, and Faith assur'd:
That while I breath this ayre, my voice may be
No light vaine Ayre, but voyce aduancing Thee.

And deepely die each obiect of my Sense,
In tincture of thy Sonnes all sauing Blood:
By which Aspect my Mindes reminiscence
May ruminate the vertue of that good
That is our Summum bonum and the rate
Of Sinne, Gods wrath, and iust, though heauy, hate.
O holy God! then looke, O looke on me
Through the through-wounded Sides of thy deere Sonne;
O let my Scarlet Sinnes, pure purple be
In his deere Blood, my Sinnes Purgation:
For eu'n as through redde Glasse, Things red do seeme,
So, through that Blood, my Workes thou good wilt deeme!

The kingdome of the Flesh is swaid by Sinne;
In Christ , that kingdome, thou hast crucifi'd;
Then, let me dwell that faultlesse Flesh within;
Sith Sinne subdues all humane Flesh beside:
Then, there, O there! let me both liue, and die,
Sith Life, by Death, there liues immortally!

The Diuell, and the World (two Worlds of Strife,
With whom my Flesh conspires) my Soule assaile:
Who, to destroy her selfe giues them a knife;
And so with them conspires, her selfe to spoile:
Then, if thou flesh her not with Christ , she dies;
For, shee in my Flesh, liues none otherwise.

But, shall I make long Furrowes on his Backe?
Or stil make Him but soape my Sinnes to scowre?
Shall He supply the Pow'r my soule doth lacke?
Yet shall shee still be idle with his pow're?
O no (Lord) no, that's not the way to winne,
But, th' onely way to liue, and die in sinne.

Then helpe me, Lord, to help his helping might;
And, giue me of thy goods, to grace his Grace:
Let not my sloth but clogge your actiue Sp'rit;
Although it doe the Same, in Loue, embrace:
" For sith in Action, Vertue doth consist,
Helpe me to worke together, with my Christ .

Had I all Faith, and Mountaines could remoue,
And though I gaue my Body to the Fire;
All this were nothing, if I had not Loue;
Then, liuely Faith, meere Loue doth Life inspire:
Sith then, without Loue, Faith doth nought but die
" Giue me that Faith that liues by Charitie.

Had I, of Men, or Cherubins the Tongues,
Knew I all Secrets, or all Prophesie;
Fed I the poore, with all to me belongs,
All these, without Loue, do but, liuing, die:
And, sith on Loue depends the Royall Law,
O let my faith (Lord) worke in Loue and awe.

Christ is a Rocke of Refuge but to those
That fight thy Battailes; then needs must I fight
Against both Thy, and My still-fighting Foes
And, euer flie to Him, in want of might:
Let me rest on this Rocke; but yet, so rest,
As, by my sloath, He may not be opprest.

I long (sweet God) to see thy vnseene Face;
Then put me in this Rocks most holy Rifts;
That I with Moses , there may see thy Grace,
Sith It cannot be seene, but through these Clifts:
But if I be vnmeet thy Face to ken,
" Shew me thy back-parts; kind Lord! say. God forbid that I should glorie, sauing in the
Crosse of our Lord Iesus Christ: by whom the World is crucified to me, and I to the World .