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Poemata sacra

Latinae & Anglicae scripta [by John Saltmarsh]
  

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Chap. VI. Gods Picture in the soul, and what it is.
  
  

Chap. VI. Gods Picture in the soul, and what it is.

The image is the Soul, a spirit made
Fit to present a Deitie, who's said
To be a spirit too. Oh could the eye
That intellectuall ray reflect, and spie
The exc'lence of it self, and in that state
Wherein it first took being, fortunate,
Had it been longer liv'd! Oh what a day
Of graces brighten'd it! it body'd lay
Like a rich gemme shut in a crystall case,
Through whose transparent walls broke every grace.
The intellect saw God, and could advance
To heav'n at pleasure in a blessed trance:
Which like a holy torch did scatter light
To guide the will, who else would sit in night
As blinde as dark: each facultie obey'd
And did them service: nimble senses strayd
Never abroad to court their objects so
As to forget their God; they did all know
Him wheresoe're they travell'd: Deity
Gave them white liveries of integritie

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To wait on him: none labour'd to betray
Their Lady to a sinfull or dark way.
Mans eyes mov'd to good objects: you would think
That God did some intelligences link
To manage their swift motion: at his eares
Enter'd no harmonie, unlesse the sphears
Whisper'd their musick or some better note,
An Hallelujah from an Angels throat:
His breath, his words were like refined aire,
As holy as the incense of a prayer.
This was mans holier state; here ye might see
Gods Picture in this rare conformitie
To him; each active member seem'd to move
Nimble to grace, trembling with fear and love;
As though God breathing upon Adams face,
Had blown in every arterie a grace.
But oh how is this picture ruin'd! where
Lives there so much of God, one may say, Here
Was he presented once? yet we have juice
That from a sacred side dropt; we make use
Of this so rich a colour to redeem
Gods thus decay'd complexion, till it seem
As fresh as at the first. Oh may I see
Such a fair Picture so reviv'd in me!