There thou (but in no other school) mayst be,
Perchance, as learned and as full as she;
She who all libraries had throughly read
At home in her own thoughts, and practised
So much good as would make as many more:
She whose example they must all implore,
Who would or do, or think well; and confess
That all the virtuous actions they express
Are but a new and worse edition
Of her some one thought, or one action:
She who in the art of knowing heaven, was grown, Here upon earth, to such perfection,
That she hath, ever since to heaven she came,
(In a far fairer print,) but read the same:
She, she not satisfied with all this weight,
(For so much knowledge as would over-freight
Another did but ballast her,) is gone
As well to enjoy, as get perfection,
And calls us after her, in that she took
(Taking herself) our best and worthiest book.
Return not, my soul, from this ecstasy,
And meditation of what thou shalt be,
To earthly thoughts, till it to thee appear
With whom thy conversation must be there.
Up, up, my drowsy soul, where thy new ear
Shall in the angels' songs no discord hear;
Where thou shalt see the blessed mother-maid
Joy in not being that which men have said;
Where she is exalted more for being good,
Than for her interest of motherhood.
Up to those patriarchs, which did longer sit
Expecting Christ than they've enjoyed him yet;
Up to those prophets, which now gladly see
Their prophecies grown to be history;
Up to the apostles, who did bravely run
All the sun's course, with more light than the
Up to those martyrs, who did calmly bleed
Oil to the apostles' lamps, dew to their seed;
Up to those virgins, who thought, that almost
They made joint-tenants with the Holy Ghost,
If they to any should his temple give :-
Up, up! for in that squadron there doth live
She, who hath carried thither new degrees
(As to their number) to their dignities.
But pause, my soul; and study ere thou fall
On accidental joys, the essential;
And what essential joy canst thou expect
Here upon earth? what permanent effect
Of transitory causes ? Dost thou love
Beauty? (and beauty worthiest is to move;)
Poor cozened cozener, that she, and that thou,
Which did begin to love, are neither now;
You are both fluid, changed since yesterday;
Next day repairs (but ill) last day's decay;
Nor are (although the river keep the name)
Yesterday's waters and to day's the same.
So flows her face, and thine eyes; neither now
That saint nor pilgrim, which your loving vow
Concerned, remains; but whilst you think you
be
Constant, you are hourly in inconstancy.
Honour may have pretence unto our love,
Because that God did live so long above
Without this honour, and then loved it so,
That he at last made creatures to bestow
Honour on him; not that he needed it;
But that, to his hands, man might grow more fit.
But since all honours from inferiors flow,
(For they do give it; princes do but show
Whom they would have so honoured,) and that
On such opinions and capacities
Is built, as rise and fall, to more and less;
Alas, 'tis but a casual happiness.
Hath ever any man to himself assigned
This or that happiness to arrest his mind,
But that another man, which takes a worse,
Thinks him a fool for having ta'en that course?
They who did labour Babel's tower to erect,
Might have considered, that for that effect
All this whole solid earth could not allow
Nor furnish forth materials enow;
And that his centre, to raise such a place,
Was far too little to have been the base;
No more affords this world foundation
To erect true joy, were all the means in one.
But as the heathen made them several gods,
Of all God's benefits and all his rods;
(For as the wine, and corn, and onions are
Gods unto them, so agues be, and war,)
And as by changing that whole precious gold
To such small copper coins, they lost the old,
And lost their only God, who ever must
Be sought alone, and not in such a thrust:'
So much mankind true happiness mistakes;
No joy enjoys that man, that many makes.
Then, soul, to thy first pitch work up again;
Know that all lines which circles do contain,
For once that they the centre touch, do touch
Twice the circumference; and be thou such;
Double on heaven thy thoughts on earth employed:
All will not serve; only who have enjoyed
The sight of God, in fulness, can think it;
For it is both the object and the wit.
This is essential joy, where neither he
Can suffer diminution, nor we;
"Tis such a full and such a filling good,
Had the angels once looked on him, they had stood.
To fill the place of one of them, or more,
She whom we celebrate is gone before.
She, who had here so much essential joy
As no chance could distract, much less destroy;
Who with God's presence was acquainted so
(Hearing and speaking to him) as to know
His face in any natural stone or tree,
Better than when in images they be;
Who kept by diligent devotion,
God's image in such reparation,
Within her heart, that what decay was grown
Was her first parent's fault, and not her own;
Who being solicited to any act,
Still heard God pleading his safe precontract;
Who, by a faithful confidence, was here
Betrothed to God, and now is married there;
Whose twilights were more clear than our mid-
Who dreamed devoutlier than most use to pray;
Who being here filled with grace, yet strove to be
Both where more grace and more capacity
At once is given: she to heaven is gone,
Who made this world in some proportion
A heaven; and here, became unto us all,
Joy (as our joys admit) essential.
But could this low world joys essential touch,
Heaven's accidental joys would pass them much.
Only in heaven joy's strength is never spent,
And accidental things are permanent.
Joy of a soul's arrival ne'er decays;
For that soul ever joys and ever stays.
Joy that their last great consummation
Approaches in the resurrection;
When earthly bodies more celestial
Shall be than angels were, for they could fall:
This kind of joy doth every day admit
Degrees of growth, but none of losing it.
In this fresh joy, 'tis no small part that she,
She, in whose goodness he that names degree
Doth injure her; ('tis loss to be called best,
There where the stuff is not such as the rest ;)
She, who left such a body as even she
Only in heaven could learn how it can be
Made better, for she rather was two souls,
Or like to full on-both-sides-written rolls;
Where eyes might read upon the outward skin,
As strong records for God as minds within ;-
She, who by making full perfection grow,
Pieces a circle, and still keeps it so ;-
Longed for, and longing for it, to heaven is gone,
Where she receives, and gives addition.
HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY.
In what torn ship soever I embark,
That ship shall be my emblem of thy ark;
What sea soever swallow me, that flood
Shall be to me an emblem of thy blood;
Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise
Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes,
Which, though they turn away sometimes,
They never will despise.
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