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

Turne in, my mind, wander no more abroad,
Her's work enough at home, lay by that load
Of scatter'd thoughts that clogs and cumbers thee
Resume thy long neglected liberty
Of selfe-examination: bend thine eye
Inward, consider where thine heart doth lie,
How 'tis affected, how 'tis busi'd: looke
What thou hast writ thy selfe in thine own booke,
Thy conscience: here set thou thy selfe to schoole.
Selfe-knowledge 'twixt a wise man and a foole
Doth make the difference: he that neglects
This learning, sideth with his owne defects.
Dost thou draw backe? Hath custome charm'd thee so,
That thou canst relish nothing but thy woe?
Find'st thou such sweetnesse in those sugar'd lyes?
Have forain objects so ingrost thine eyes?
Canst thou not hold them off? Hast thou an eare
To listen but to what thou should'st not heare?
Art thou incapable of every thing,
But what thy senses to thy fancie bring?
Remember that thy birth and constitution
Both promise better then such base confusion.
Thy birth's divine, from heaven; thy composure
Is spirit, and immortall; thine inclosure

In walls of flesh not to make thee debtor
For house-roome to them, but to make them better.
Thy body's thy freehold, live then as the Lord,
No tenant to thine owne: some time afford
To view what state 'tis in: survey each part,
And above all take notice of thine heart.
Such as that is the rest is, or will be,
Better or worse, blame-worthy or fault-free.
What? are the ruines such thou art affrai'd,
Or else asham'd, to see how 'tis decai'd?
Is't therefore thou art loth to see it such,
As now it is, because it is so much,
Degenerated now from what it was,
And should have been? Thine ignorance, alas,
Will make it nothing better, and the longer
Evills are suffer'd grow, they grow the stronger.
Or hath thine understanding lost its light?
Hath the darke night of error dimm'd thy sight
So that thou canst not, though thou would'st, observe
All things amisse within thee, how they swerve
From the straight rules of righteousnesse and reason?
If so, omit not then this precious season.
Tis yet schoole time, as yet the doore's not shut.
Harke how the Master calls. Come let us put
Up our requests to him, whose will alone
Limits his pow'r of teaching, from whom none
Returnes unlearned, that hath once a will
To be his scholar, and implore his skill.
Great scearcher of the heart, whose boundlesse sight
Discovers secrets, and doth bring to light
The hidden things of darkenesse, who alone
Perfectly know'st all things that can be knowne.
Thou know'st I doe not, cannot, have no mind
To know mine heart: I am not onely blind,
But lame, and listlesse: thou alone canst make

Mee able, willing: and the paines I take,
As well as the successe, must come from thee,
Who workest both to will and doe in mee:
Having now made mee willing to be taught,
Make mee as willing to learne what I ought
Or, if thou wilt allow thy scholar leave
To choose his lesson, lest I should deceive
My selfe againe, as I have done too often,
Teach mee to know mine heart. Thou, thou, canst soften
Lighten, enliven, purifie, restore,
And make more fruitfull, then it was before,
Its hardnesse, darkenesse, death, uncleannesse, losse,
And barrennesse: refine it from the drosse,
And draw out all the dregs, heale ev'ry sore,
Teach it to know it selfe, and love thee more.
Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst impart this skill:
And for all other learning take't who will.

University of Virginia Library

The School of the Heart.

The Introdvction.