 | Saint Peters complaint |  |
46
A child my choyse.
Let
folly praise that fancie loues, I praise and loue that child,
Whose hart, no thought: whose tong, no word: whose hand no deed defiled.
I praise him most, I loue him best, all praise and loue is his:
While him I loue, in him I liue, and cannot liue amisse.
Whose hart, no thought: whose tong, no word: whose hand no deed defiled.
I praise him most, I loue him best, all praise and loue is his:
While him I loue, in him I liue, and cannot liue amisse.
Loues sweetest mark, Lawdes highest theme, mans most desired light,
To loue him, life: to leaue him, death: to liue in him, delight.
He mine, by gift: I his, by debt: thus each, to others due:
First friend he was: best friend he is: all times will try him true.
To loue him, life: to leaue him, death: to liue in him, delight.
He mine, by gift: I his, by debt: thus each, to others due:
First friend he was: best friend he is: all times will try him true.
Though young, yet wise: though smal, yet strong: though man, yet God he is:
As wise, he knowes: as strong, he can: as God, he loues to blisse,
His knowledge rules: his strength, defends: his loue, doth cherish all:
His birth, our Ioye: his life, our light: his death, our end of thrall.
As wise, he knowes: as strong, he can: as God, he loues to blisse,
His knowledge rules: his strength, defends: his loue, doth cherish all:
His birth, our Ioye: his life, our light: his death, our end of thrall.
Alas, he weepes, he sighes, he pants, yet doo his Angels sing:
Out of his teares, his sighes and throbs, doth bud a ioyfull spring.
Almightie babe, whose tender armes can force all foes to flie:
Correct my faultes, protect my life, direct me when I die.
Out of his teares, his sighes and throbs, doth bud a ioyfull spring.
Almightie babe, whose tender armes can force all foes to flie:
Correct my faultes, protect my life, direct me when I die.
| Saint Peters complaint | |