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Schola Cordis or the Heart of it Selfe, gone away from God

brought back againe to him & instructed by him in 47 Emblems [by Christopher Harvey]

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The flowers of the Heart.
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121

The flowers of the Heart.

My beloved is gone downe into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lillies. Cant. 6. 2.

Epigr. 30.

These lillies I doe consecrate to thee,
Beloved Spouse, which spring as thou may'st see,
Out of the seed thou sowedst, and the ground
Is better'd by thy Flow'rs, when they abound.

Ode. 31.

1

Is there a joy like this?
What can augment my blisse?
If my beloved will accept
A pose of these flowers kept,
And consecrated unto his content,
I hope hereafter he will not repent
The cost, and paines he hath bestow'd
So freely upon me, that ow'd
Him all I had before,
And infinitly more.

2

Nay, try them, blessed Lord,
Take them not on my word,
But let the colour, tast and smell,
The truth of their perfections tell.
Thou that art infinite in wisdome see,

122

If they be not the same that came from thee.
If any difference be found,
It is occasion'd by the ground,
Which yet I cannot see
So good as it should be.

3

What say'st thou to that Rose,
That queen of flowers, whose
Maidenly blushes, fresh, and faire,
Out-brave the dainty morning aire?
Dost thou not in those lovely leaves espy
The perfect picture of that modesty,
That self-condemning shamefastnesse,
That is more ready to confesse
A fault, and to amend,
Then it is to offend?

4

Is not this Lilly pure?
What Fuller can procure
A white so perfect, spotlesse, clear,
As in this flower doth appear?
Dost thou not in this milky colour see
The lively lustre of sincerity,
Which no hypocrisie hath painted,
Nor self-respecting ends have tainted?
Can there be to thy sight
A more entire delight?

5

Or wilt thou have beside
Violets purple-di'd?
The Sun-observing Marigold,
Or Orpin never waxing old,
The Primrose, Cowslip, Gilliflow'r, or Pinke,
Or any flow'r, or herbe, that I can think

123

Thou hast a mind unto? I shall
Quickly be furnisht with them all,
If once I doe but know
That thou wilt have it so.

6

Faith is a fruitfull grace,
Well planted stores the place,
Fills all the borders, beds, and bow'rs
With wholsome herbs, and pleasant flow'rs.
Great Gardiner, thou saist, and I beleeve,
What thou do'st meane to gather thou wilt give.
Take then mine heart in hand to fill't,
And it shall yeeld thee what thou wilt.
Yea thou, by gath'ring more,
Shalt still increase my store.