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 Christ's Cross. |
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On Christ's Cross.
Can we spell Chris-cross-row, and yet not read
That Christ for us was dead?
How he himself did humble unto death,
Loosing his life to give us breath?
That Christ for us was dead?
How he himself did humble unto death,
Loosing his life to give us breath?
But now he shines in the Cœlestial Frame,
And hath receiv'd a Name
To which all knees shall bow, and tongues shall say,
This is the Lord, we must obey.
And hath receiv'd a Name
To which all knees shall bow, and tongues shall say,
This is the Lord, we must obey.
He that doth disregard the Cross of Christ,
Of Happiness hath mist;
Destruction is his end, his glory shame;
But happy he doth love the same.
Of Happiness hath mist;
Destruction is his end, his glory shame;
But happy he doth love the same.
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I will not hate the Cross, nor yet adore
Any but he it bore.
I'll not blaspheme the Cross, because 'twas dy'd
With his rich blood was crucifi'd.
Any but he it bore.
I'll not blaspheme the Cross, because 'twas dy'd
With his rich blood was crucifi'd.
Rich beyond price; for when that blood was spilt
It cleans'd a world of guilt,
It bought mankinde: for when Christ's blood was flown,
As Lord, he call'd us all his own.
It cleans'd a world of guilt,
It bought mankinde: for when Christ's blood was flown,
As Lord, he call'd us all his own.
Wherefore I will not worship any one
But my dear Lord alone.
Take up my Cross and bear my Cross I will,
I'll love it and embrace it still.
But my dear Lord alone.
Take up my Cross and bear my Cross I will,
I'll love it and embrace it still.
But to adore my Cross I will not dare,
All knees should that forbear:
In reverence to his Name all hearts shall bow
With pious Zeal, as mine does now.
All knees should that forbear:
In reverence to his Name all hearts shall bow
With pious Zeal, as mine does now.
Christ never wanted crosses, scoffs, and scorns;
His ways were strew'd with thorns:
Then may we judge by his most sacred birth,
He's cross'd, wants crosses here on Earth.
His ways were strew'd with thorns:
Then may we judge by his most sacred birth,
He's cross'd, wants crosses here on Earth.
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