Great God, there is no safety here below; Thou art my fortress, though thou seem'st my foe, "Tis thou that strik'st the stroke must guard the blow. Thou art my God; by thee I fall or stand; I know thy justice is thyself; I know, If not to thee, where-whither-should I go ? Then work thy will. If passion bid me flee, TIME FOR REPENTANCE. My glass is half unspent ; forbear to arrest My time-devoured minutes will be done The gain's not great I purchase by this stay; My following eye can hardly make a shift The secret wheels of hurrying Time do give And what's a life? a weary pilgrimage, And what's a life? the flourishing array Read on this dial, how the shades devour Behold these lilies (which thy hands have made Fair copies of my life, and open laid To view) how soon they droop, how soon they fade! Shade not that dial, night will blind too soon; Nor do I beg this slender inch, to while My thoughts with joy; here's nothing worth a smile. No, no; 'tis not to please my wanton ears years: And what thou giv'st me, I will give to tears. Draw not that soul which would be rather led! Behold these rags; am I a fitting guest With hands and face unwashed, ungirt, unblest? First, let the Jordan streams (that find supplies I have a world of sins to be lamented: I have a sea of tears that must be vented: DELIGHT IN GOD ONLY. I LOVE (and have some cause to love) the earth: Or what's my mother, or my nurse to me? I love the air: her dainty sweets refresh flesh, And with their polyphonian notes delight me : But what's the air or all the sweets that she I love the sea she is my fellow-creature, But, Lord of oceans, when compar'd with thee, To heav'n's high city I direct my journey, Without thy presence heav'n'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 heav'n itself no pleasure: If not possess'd, if not enjoy'd in thee, What's earth, or sea, or air, or heav'n to me? The highest honour, that the world can boast, The loudest flames that earth can kindle, be Without thy presence, wealth is bags of cares; Friendship is treason, and delights are snares; In having all things, and not thee, what have I ? BREVITY OF LIFE. Behold How short a span Was long enough, of old, To measure out the life of man! In those well-temper'd days his time was then Survey'd, cast up, and found but three-score years and ten. Alas! And what is that? They come, and slide, and pass, The posts of time are swift, which having run Their sev'n short stages o'er, their short-liv'd task is done. Our days To sleep, to antic plays |