 | Otia Sacra Optima Fides |  |
15
Annus annulus, &c. Diminutione largimur.
As the Year, Serpent-like doth cast its Skin,
And's stript o'th' Old, when as the New comes in;
What would 'tinform, but that anew w'invest
Our selves in Christ, Old Adam's Rags detest?
And if a Janus Bifronted doth stand,
Looking at once to this and t'other hand,
What would He teach our Consciences, save this,
To see at one View whence Salvation is,
And whence our woe came; that for this we may
Our Tribute Tears, for that all-praises pay?
And's stript o'th' Old, when as the New comes in;
What would 'tinform, but that anew w'invest
Our selves in Christ, Old Adam's Rags detest?
And if a Janus Bifronted doth stand,
Looking at once to this and t'other hand,
What would He teach our Consciences, save this,
To see at one View whence Salvation is,
And whence our woe came; that for this we may
Our Tribute Tears, for that all-praises pay?
Now when the Season blossomes in its Spring,
And time puts on a party-colour'd wing;
Why should not our Souls, which before did lye
Defil'd through th' smutch of Sin, receive a dye
(Whereat the Rose may blush) from that same flood
(All Streams surpasses) of our Saviours Blood?
For if that Leprosie we fain would heal,
This is our Jordan, stain'd with Cutchinneal.
If from our first Sire we receiv'd a wound,
This is that Spikenard that can make us sound.
And time puts on a party-colour'd wing;
Why should not our Souls, which before did lye
Defil'd through th' smutch of Sin, receive a dye
(Whereat the Rose may blush) from that same flood
(All Streams surpasses) of our Saviours Blood?
For if that Leprosie we fain would heal,
This is our Jordan, stain'd with Cutchinneal.
If from our first Sire we receiv'd a wound,
This is that Spikenard that can make us sound.
And as th' approaching Sun comes daily on
For to supplant the Winters Garison:
So should our frozen hearts be thaw'd, and Melt
When we to Mind call what our Jesus felt,
And we deserv'd; His Zodiack should bring
Us to the Tropick of our Summering
In those warm thoughts, till ripe in faith and hope,
Love like a Vale, cover Our Horiscope:
For what can we return for His, who rent
The Temples to free us from Punishment?
For to supplant the Winters Garison:
So should our frozen hearts be thaw'd, and Melt
When we to Mind call what our Jesus felt,
And we deserv'd; His Zodiack should bring
Us to the Tropick of our Summering
In those warm thoughts, till ripe in faith and hope,
Love like a Vale, cover Our Horiscope:
For what can we return for His, who rent
The Temples to free us from Punishment?
16
O let the Lustfull Clusters we behold
Betasseling Autumn, and those Ears of gold—
Resembling Corn, say to us, if we thirst
Or hunger: He who is both Last and First,
Did tread the Wine press for us, and fulfill
What was to us due for our Parents ill;
That so we might be numbred 'mongst those guest
The Lamb invited to his Mariage-Feast.
And though we once fell by what one Tree bore,
God by Anothers fruit did us restore.
Betasseling Autumn, and those Ears of gold—
Resembling Corn, say to us, if we thirst
Or hunger: He who is both Last and First,
Did tread the Wine press for us, and fulfill
What was to us due for our Parents ill;
That so we might be numbred 'mongst those guest
The Lamb invited to his Mariage-Feast.
And though we once fell by what one Tree bore,
God by Anothers fruit did us restore.
Then whilst the Sharp'd-breath'd Winter seems to lay
Stripes on the bearing earth, and Blasts th' array
She late was deckt in; Spitting on her face
Its Feather'd-rain, (all embling the disgrace
For Us He felt, who would have known no shame,
Had we been Innocent and without Blame)
Doth't not discypher how a Lilly pure
Sprung up 'midst Thorns, Scourgings to endure:
And how They Spat upon a Face that Shin'd,
Which prov'd our Eye-salve, who before were blind?
Stripes on the bearing earth, and Blasts th' array
She late was deckt in; Spitting on her face
Its Feather'd-rain, (all embling the disgrace
For Us He felt, who would have known no shame,
Had we been Innocent and without Blame)
Doth't not discypher how a Lilly pure
Sprung up 'midst Thorns, Scourgings to endure:
And how They Spat upon a Face that Shin'd,
Which prov'd our Eye-salve, who before were blind?
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