University of Virginia Library

[i] [An Hymne of the Passion.]

If , when farre in the East yee doe behold
Foorth from his Christall Bed the Sunne to rise,
With rosie Robes and Crowne of flaming Gold?
If gazing on that Empresse of the Skies,
That takes so many Formes, and those faire Brands,
Which blaze in Heauens high Vault, Nights watchfull eyes?
If Seeing how the Seas tumultuous Bands
Of bellowing Billowes haue their course confin'd,
How vnsustain'd the Earth still steadfast stands:
Poore mortall Wights, yee e're found in your Minde
A thought, that some great King did sit aboue,
Who had such Lawes and Rites to them assign'd;
A King who fix'd the Poles made Spheares to moue,
All Wisedome, purenesse, Excellence, and Might,
All Goodnesse, Greatnesse, Iustice, Beauty, Loue?
With feare and wonder hither turne your Sight,
See, see (alas) Him now, not in that State
Thought could fore-cast Him into Reasons light.
Now Eyes with teares, now Hearts with griefe make great,
Bemoane this cruell Death and dreary case,
If euer plaints iust Woe could aggrauate?
From Sinne and Hell to saue vs, humaine Race,
See this great King naill'd to an abiect Tree,
An obiect of reproach and sad disgrace.
O vnheard Pitty, Loue in strange degree!
Hee his owne Life doth giue, his Blood doth shed,
For Wormelings base such Excellence to see.
Poore Wightes, behold His Visage pale as Lead,
His Head bow'd to His Brest, Lockes sadlie rent,
Like a cropt Rose that languishing doth fade.
Weake Nature weepe, astonish'd World lament,
Lament, yee Windes, you Heauen that all containes,
And thou (my Soule) let nought thy Griefe relent.
Those Hands, those sacred Hands which hold the raines
Of this great All, and kept from mutuall warres
The Elements, beare rent for thee their Veines:
Those feete which once must trade on golden Starres,
For thee with nailes would bee pierc'd through and torne,
For thee Heauens King from Heauen himselfe debarres.
This great heart-quaking Dolour waile and mourne,
Yee that long since Him saw by might of Faith,
Yee now that are, and yee yet to bee borne.
Not to behold his great Creators Death,
The Sunne from sinfull eyes hath vail'd his light,
And faintly iourneyes up Heauens saphire Path.
And, cutting from her Browes her Tresses bright,
The Moone doth keepe her Lords sad Obsequies,
Impearling with her Teares this Robe of Night.
All staggering and lazie lowre the Skies,
The Earth and elemental Stages quake,
The long since dead from bursted Graues arise.
And can things wanting sense yet sorrow take,
And beare a Part with him who all them wrought?
And Man (though borne with cries) shall pitty lacke?
Thinke what had beene your state, had hee not brought
To these sharpe Pangs himselfe, and priz'd so hie
Your Soules, that with his Life them life Hee bought.
What Woes doe you attend, if still yee lie
Plung'd in your wonted ordures, wretched Brood,
Shall for your sake againe GOD euer die?
O leaue deluding shewes, embrace true good,
Hee on you calles, forgoe Sinnes shamefull trade,
With Prayers now seeke Heauen, and not with Blood.
Let not the Lambes more from their Dames bee had,
Nor Altars blush for Sinne; liue euery thing,
That long time long'd-for sacrifice is made.
All that is from you crau'd by this great King
Is to beleeue, a pure Heart Incense is,
What gift (alas) can wee him meaner bring?
Haste sinne-sicke Soules, this season doe not misse,
Now while remorselesse time doth grant you space,
And GOD inuites you to your only Blisse.
Hee who you calles will not denie you Grace,
But low-deepe burie faults, so yee repent,
His armes (loe) stretched are you to embrace.
When Dayes are done, and Lifes small sparke is spent,
So yee accept what freely here is giuen,
Like brood of Angels, deathlesse, all-content,
Yee shall for euer liue with him in Heauen.