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From thence read on the story of his life,
His humble carriage, his unfaulty ways,
His cankered foes, his fights, his toil, his strife,
His pains, his poverty, his sharp assays,
Through which He passed his miserable days,
Offending none, and doing good to all,
Yet being maliced both of great and small.
And look at last, how of most wretched wights
He taken was, betrayed, and false accused,
How with most scornful taunts, and fell despites,
He was reviled, disgraced, and foul abused;

How scourged, how crowned, how buffetted, how bruised; And, lastly, how twixt robbers crucified,

With bitter wound through hand, through feet, and side!
Then let thy flinty heart that feels no pain,
Empierced be with pitiful remorse,
And let thy bowels bleed in every vein

At sight of his most sacred heavenly corse,
So torn and mangled with malicious force;
And let thy soul whose sins his sorrows wrought,
Melt into tears and groan in grieved thought.
With sense whereof, whilst so thy softened spirit
Is inly touched, and humbled with meek zeal,
Through meditation of his endless merit,

Lift up thy mind to th' Author of thy weal,
And to his sovereign mercy do appeal;
Learn Him to love that loved thee so dear,
And in thy breast his blessed image bear.
With all thy heart, with all thy soul and mind,
Thou must Him love, and his behests embrace;
All other loves with which the earth doth blind
Weak fancies, and stir up affections base,
Thou must renounce and utterly displace,
And give thyself unto Him full and free,
That full and freely gave Himself for thec.
Then shalt thou feel thy spirit so possest,
And ravisht with devouring great desire
Of his dear self, that shall thy feeble breast
Inflame with love, and set thee all on fire
With burning zeal, through every part entire,
That in no earthly thing thou shalt delight,
But in his sweet and amiable sight.

Thenceforth all world's desire will in thee die,
And all earth's glory, on which men do gaze,
Seem dirt and dross in thy pure-sighted eye,
Compared to that celestial beauty's blaze,
Whose glorious beams all fleshly sense doth daze,
With admiration of their passing light,
Blinding the eyes and 'lumining the sprite.

Then shall thy ravisht soul inspiréd be

With heavenly thoughts far above human skill,
And thy bright radiant eyes shall plainly see
Th' idea of his pure glory present still
Before thy face, that all thy spirits shall fill
With sweet enragement of celestial love,

Kindled through sight of those fair things above.

MINISTRATION OF ANGELS.

And is there care in heaven?

And is there love

In heavenly spirits to these creatures base

That may compassion of their evils move?

There is: else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts: But O! th' exceeding grace
Of highest God, that loves his creatures so;
And all his works with mercy doth embrace,
That blessed angels He sends to and fro,

To serve to wicked man-to serve his wicked foc!
How oft do they their silver bowers leave
To come to succour us that succour want!
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends to aid us militant!
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant;
And all for love and nothing for reward:

O, why should heavenly God to men have such regard?

FRAIL ESTATE OF MAN.

Such is the weakness of all mortal hope,
So tickle is the state of earthly things,
That, ere they come unto their aiméd scope,
They fall too short of our frail reckonings,

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And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings,
Instead of comfort which we should embrace:
This is the state of kaisars and of kings!
Let none, therefore, that is in meaner place,
Too greatly grieve at any his unlucky case!

THE MIND THE MEASURE OF WEALTH.
In vain do men

The Heavens of their fortune's fault accuse;
Sith they know best which is the best for them:
For they to each such fortune do diffuse

As they do know each can most aptly use.

For not that which men covet most, is best;

Nor that thing worst which men do most refuse;
But fittest is, that all contented rest

With that they hold: each hath his fortune in his breast.

It is the mind that maketh good or ill,
That maketh wretch or happy, rich or poor:
For some, that hath abundance in his will,
Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store;
And other, that hath little, asks no more,
But in that little is both rich and wise;
For wisdom is most riches: fools, therefore,
They are, which fortunes do by vows devise,
Sith each unto himself his life may fortunize.

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SIR WALTER RALEIGH was born at Hayes Farm, in the parish of East Budeleigh, in Devonshire. He was the youngest son of Walter Raleigh, Esq., the representative

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