Prison-Pietie or, Meditations Divine and Moral. Digested into Poetical Heads, On Mixt and Various Subjects. Whereunto is added A Panegyrick to The Right Reverend, and most Nobly descended, Henry, Lord Bishop of London. By Samuel Speed, Prisoner in Ludgate, London |
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On Sunday. |
 | Prison-Pietie |  |
On Sunday.
This is the day the Lord hath made,
Then let not Christians be afraid;
Laying aside all sin,
Rejoyce therein.
Then let not Christians be afraid;
Laying aside all sin,
Rejoyce therein.
The clearest radiant day that shines
Upon the Christians golden Mines.
God's holy Torch and Light,
That leads aright.
Upon the Christians golden Mines.
God's holy Torch and Light,
That leads aright.
The day of our Confession,
The Ease of our Oppression,
The day of Peace and Rest,
Churches our Nest.
The Ease of our Oppression,
The day of Peace and Rest,
Churches our Nest.
A Light it is to all the Week,
A Summons to the Proud and Meek,
That says to Conscience, Fie,
Ye go awry.
A Summons to the Proud and Meek,
That says to Conscience, Fie,
Ye go awry.
The day that pulleth man from Death,
And crowns his head with holy Wreath;
That guides him to his Grave,
Yet doth him save.
And crowns his head with holy Wreath;
That guides him to his Grave,
Yet doth him save.
97
The Day of God, so God of Days,
It is above my reach of praise:
God's with his free accord
The Sabbaths Lord.
It is above my reach of praise:
God's with his free accord
The Sabbaths Lord.
It is the Day-book of a Saint,
A Spring for those that thirst or faint:
Nor can we say there's one day
Like to Sunday;
But we'll such thoughts in silence smother,
Till we can finde out such another.
A Spring for those that thirst or faint:
Nor can we say there's one day
Like to Sunday;
But we'll such thoughts in silence smother,
Till we can finde out such another.
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