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

This bath thy Saviour swet with drops of bloud,
Sick heart, of purpose for to doe thee good.
They that have tri'd it can the vertue tell,
Come then and use it, if thou wilt be well.

Ode. 41.

1

All this thy God hath done for thee:
And now mine heart
It is high time that thou should'st be
Acting thy part,
And meditating on his blessed Passion,
Till thou hast made it thine by imitation.

2

That exercise will be the best
And surest meanes,
To keep thee evermore at rest,
And free from paines.
To suffer with thy Saviour is the way
To make thy present comforts last for aye.

3

Trace then the steps, wherein he trade,
And first begin
To sweat with him. The heavy load,
Which for thy sinne

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He underwent, squeez'd bloud out of his face,
Which in great drops came trickling downe apace.

4

Oh let not then that precious bloud
Be spilt in vaine,
But gather ev'ry drop. 'Tis good
To purge the staine
Of guilt, that hath defil'd, and overspred
Thee from the sole of th' foot to th' crown of th' head.

5

Poison possesseth every veine,
The fountaine is
Corrupt, and all the streames uncleane:
All is amisse.
Thy bloud's impure, yea thou thy self, mine heart,
In all thine inward pow'rs polluted art.

6

When thy first father first did ill,
Mans doome was read,
That in the sweat of's face he still
Should eat his bread.
What the first Adam in the garden caught,
The second Adam in a garden taught.

7

Taught by his owne example, how
To sweat for sinne,
Under that heavy weight to bow,
And never linne
Begging release, till with strong cries, and teares
The soule be drain'd of all its faults, and feares.

8

If sins imputed guilt opprest
Th' Almighty so,

167

That his sad soule could find no rest
Under that woe:
But that the bitter agony he felt
Made his pure bloud, if not to sweat, to melt.

9

Then let that huge inherent masse
Of sinne, that lies
In heapes on thee, make thee surpasse
In teares, and cries,
Striving with all thy strength, untill thou sweat
Such drops as his, though not as good, as great.

10

And if he thinke it fit to lay
Upon thy back,
Or paines, or duties, as he may
Untill it crack,
Shrinke not away, but straine thine utmost force
To beare them cheerfully without remorse..

University of Virginia Library

The bathing of the Heart.

Epigr. 41.

Ode. 41.

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