 | A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets
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Sonnet. XXXI.
[O glorious Patrone of eternall blisse]
O glorious Patrone of eternall blisse,
Victorious conquerour of Hell and death,
Oh that I had whole westerne windes of breath,
My voice and tongue should not bee so remisse:
My notes should not bee so rare and demisse:
But euery riuer, forrest, hill, and heath
Should eccho forth his praise, and vnderneath
The worlds foundations sound that it is his:
Hee which did place the worlds foundations,
Hee which did make the Sunne, the Moone and starres,
Who with his blood redeem'd all nations,
And willing none from Paradise debarres,
Shall not all instruments and voyces sounde
His glories, which in all these things abounde?
| A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets
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