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

My busie, stirring heart, that seekes the best,
Can find no place on earth wherein to rest:
For God alone, the author of its blisse,
Its only rest, its onely center is.

Ode. 40.

1

Move me no more, mad world, it is in vaine,
Experience tells me plaine
I should deceived be,
If ever I againe should trust in thee.
My weary heart hath ransackt all
Thy treasuries both great, and small,
And thy large inventories beares in minde:
Yet could it never finde
One place wherein to rest,
Though it hath often tried all the best.

2

Thy profits brought me losse in stead of gaine,
And all thy pleasures paine:
Thine honours blurr'd my name
With the deep staines of self-confounding shame,
Thy wisdome made me turne starke fool,
And all the learning, that thy school
Afforded me, was not enough to make

162

Me know my self, and take
Care of my better part,
Which should have perished for all thine heart.

3

Not that there is not place of rest in thee
For others: but for me
There is, there can be, none:
That God, that made mine heart, is he alone,
That of himself both can, and will,
Give rest unto my thoughts, and fill
Them full of all content, and quietnesse,
That so I may possesse
My soule in patience,
Untill he find it time to call me hence.

4

On thee then, as a sure foundation,
A tried corner-stone,
Lord, I will strive to raise
The tow'r of my salvation, and thy praise.
In thee, as in my center, shall
The lines of all my longings fall.
To thee, as to mine anchor, surely ti'd
My ship shall safely ride.
On thee, as on my bed
Of soft repose, I'll rest my weary head.

5

Thou, thou alone, shalt be my whole desire,
I'll nothing else require,
But thee, or for thy sake.
In thee I'll sleepe secure, and when I wake
Thy glorious face shall satisfie
The longing of my looking eye.
I'll roule my self on thee, as on my rock,

163

And threatning dangers mock.
Of thee, as of my treasure,
I'll boast, and bragge, my comforts know no measure.

6

Lord, thou shalt be mine All, I will not know
A profit here below,
But what reflects on thee:
Thou shalt be all the pleasure I will see
In any thing the earth affords.
Mine heart shall owne no words
Of honour, out of which I cannot raise
The matter of thy praise.
Nay, I will not be mine,
Unlesse thou wilt vouchsafe to have me thine.

University of Virginia Library

The rest of the Heart.

Epigr. 40.

Ode. 40.

1

2

3

4

5

6