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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Delights of the Minde. |
 | Prison-Pietie |  |
Delights of the Minde.
Jesus, the only thought of theeFills with delight my memorie;
But when thou dost thy presence show,
Heav'n seems into my breast to flow.
No Theam so sweet for voice can be,
Nor to the ear such harmonie.
No heart can thoughts for charming frame
As Jesus his most pretious Name!
Jesus, when for our sins we grieve,
Thy mercies all our wants relieve.
If good to those that seek thy Grace,
What art thou when they see thy face?
Jesus, in whom we comfort finde,
Fountain of Life, Light of the Minde:
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Our utmost wish thy gifts exceed.
No Eloquence of Tongue can teach,
Nor art of Pen this secret reach;
Only th'experienc'd Soul does prove
What sweets they taste who Jesus love.
Him then I'll seek, retir'd apart,
Shutting the world out of my heart;
And midst my business him I'll strive,
With fresh pursuit still to retrive.
Early with Magdalen, I'll come
A Pilgrim to my Saviour's Tomb;
Weeping my sins in mournful cries,
I'll seek him with my minde, not eyes.
My Tears shall on his Grave distill,
And faithful Sighs the Garden fill:
Prostrate before him on my face,
His sacred feet I'll fast embrace.
Jesus, in thy bless'd steps I'll tread,
Striving to follow where they lead:
Nor shall my Soul give o're to mourn,
Till to thy favour I return.
O Jesus, most admired King,
Who didst triumph o'r deaths sharp sting,
Thy mystick sweetness first excites,
Then satisfies all appetites.
Thy quickning visits Life bestow,
Thy lights true good so cleerly show,
That they who once have relish'd thee,
Know all the World's meer Vanitie.
Come then, dear Lord, possess our hearts,
Enflame our loves with thy chast darts;
All Clouds of errour drive away,
And change our Night to thy bright day.
To thee our hearts and voices sing,
To thee our vows and pray'rs we bring;
That when we end this life's short race,
In Heav'n with thee we may have place.
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