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 | Reliquiae Wottonianae |  |
To the Right Honourable, The Lady MARY WOTTON
Baronness, and to her Three Noble Daughters,
The Lady Katherin Stanhop
,
The Lady Margaret Tufton
,
The Lady Ann Hales
.
69
Tears wept at the grave of Sir Albertus Morton, by Henry Wotton.
Silence in truth, would speak my sorrow best,
For deepest wounds, can least their feelings tel;
Yet let me borrow from mine own unrest,
A time to bid him whom I lov'd farewel.
For deepest wounds, can least their feelings tel;
Yet let me borrow from mine own unrest,
A time to bid him whom I lov'd farewel.
Oh my unhappy lines, you that before
Have serv'd my youth to vent some wanton cries,
And now congeal'd with grief, can scarce implore
Strength to accent, Here my Albertus lies.
Have serv'd my youth to vent some wanton cries,
70
Strength to accent, Here my Albertus lies.
This is that Sable stone, this is the cave
And womb of earth, that doth his Corps imbrace
While others sing his praise, let me ingrave
These bleeding numbers to adorn the place.
And womb of earth, that doth his Corps imbrace
While others sing his praise, let me ingrave
These bleeding numbers to adorn the place.
Here will I paint the Characters of woe:
Here I will pay my tribute to the dead;
And here, my faithful tears in showrs shall flow
To humanize the flints on which I tread.
Here I will pay my tribute to the dead;
And here, my faithful tears in showrs shall flow
To humanize the flints on which I tread.
Where, though I mourn my matchless loss alone
And none between my weakness judg and me,
Yet, even these pensive walls allow my moan
Whose doleful Echoes to my plaints agree.
And none between my weakness judg and me,
Yet, even these pensive walls allow my moan
Whose doleful Echoes to my plaints agree.
But is he gone? and live I riming here,
As if some Muse would listen to my lay?
When all dis-tun'd sit waiting for their dear,
And bath the Banks where he was wont to play.
As if some Muse would listen to my lay?
When all dis-tun'd sit waiting for their dear,
And bath the Banks where he was wont to play.
Dwell then in endless light, thou freed soul,
Discharg'd from natures, and from fortunes crust,
Whil'st on this fluid globe my glass shall roul,
And run the rest of my remaining dust.
Discharg'd from natures, and from fortunes crust,
Whil'st on this fluid globe my glass shall roul,
And run the rest of my remaining dust.
H. Wotton
LETTERS, &c. AND CHARACTERS OF Sundry Personages, Found among THE PAPERS OF Sr Henry Wotton KNIGHT.
470
A Hymn to my God in a night of my late Sicknesse.
Oh
thou great Power, in whom I move,
For whom I live, to whom I die,
Behold me through thy beams of love,
Whilest on this Couch of tears I lye;
And Cleanse my sordid soul within,
By thy Christs Blood, the bath of sin
For whom I live, to whom I die,
Behold me through thy beams of love,
Whilest on this Couch of tears I lye;
And Cleanse my sordid soul within,
By thy Christs Blood, the bath of sin
No hallowed oyls, no grains I need,
No rags of Saints, no purging fire,
One rosie drop from Davids Seed,
Was worlds of seas to quench thine Ire.
O pretious Ransome! which once paid,
That Consummatum est was said:
No rags of Saints, no purging fire,
One rosie drop from Davids Seed,
Was worlds of seas to quench thine Ire.
471
That Consummatum est was said:
And said by him, that said no more,
But seal'd it with his sacred breath.
Thou then, that hast dispung'd my score,
And dying, wast the death of death;
Be to me now, on thee I call,
My Life, my Strength, my Joy, my All.
But seal'd it with his sacred breath.
Thou then, that hast dispung'd my score,
And dying, wast the death of death;
Be to me now, on thee I call,
My Life, my Strength, my Joy, my All.
Hen. Wotton.
491
POEMS.
A Poem written by Sir Henry Wotton, in his youth.
O faithless World, and thy more faithless part,a womans heart!
The true shop of variety, where sits
nothing but fits
And feavers of desire, and pangs of love,
which toyes remove.
Why was she born to please, or I to trust
words writ in dust?
Suffering her Eys to govern my dispair,
my pain for air;
And fruit of time rewarded with untruth,
the food of youth.
Untrue she was: yet, I believ'd her eyes
(instructed spies)
Till I was taught, that Love was but a school
to breed a fool.
Or sought she more by triumphs of denial,
to make a trial
How far her smiles commanded my weakness?
yeeld and confess,
Excuse no more thy folly; but for Cure,
blush and indure
As well thy shame, as passions that were vain:
and think, 'tis gain
To know, that Love lodg'd in a womans brest,
Is but a guest.
H. W.
492
Sir Henry Wotton, and Serjeant Hoskins, riding on the way.
Ho.Noble, lovely, vertuous Creature,
Purposely so fram'd by nature
To enthral your servants wits.
Wo.
Time must now unite our hearts:
Not for any my deserts,
But because (me thinks) it fits.
Ho.
Dearest treasure of my thought,
And yet wert thou to be bought
With my life, thou wert not dear.
Wo.
Secret comfort of my mind,
Doubt no longer to be kind,
But be so and so appear.
Ho.
Give me love for love again,
Let our loves be clear and plain,
Heaven is fairest, when 'tis clearest.
Wo.
Lest in clouds, and in differring,
We resemble Seamen erring,
Farthest off, when we are nearest.
Ho.
Thus with numbers interchanged,
VVotton's Muse and mine have ranged,
Verse and Journey both are spent.
VVo.
And if Hoskins chance to say,
That we well have spent the day,
I, for my part, am content.
H. W.
493
On his Mistriss, the Queen of Bohemia.
You meaner Beauties of the Night,
That poorly satisfie our Eyes
More by your number, then your light,
You Common people of the Skies;
What are you when the Sun shall rise?
That poorly satisfie our Eyes
More by your number, then your light,
You Common people of the Skies;
What are you when the Sun shall rise?
You curious Chanters of the Wood,
That warble forth Dame Natures layes,
Thinking your Voyces understood
By your weak accents; what's your praise
When Philomel her voyce shall raise?
That warble forth Dame Natures layes,
Thinking your Voyces understood
By your weak accents; what's your praise
When Philomel her voyce shall raise?
You Violets, that first appear,
In your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud Virgins of the year,
As if the Spring were all your own;
What are you when the Rose is blown?
In your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud Virgins of the year,
As if the Spring were all your own;
What are you when the Rose is blown?
So, when my Mistris shall be seen
In Form and Beauty of her mind,
By Vertue first, then Choyce a Queen,
Tell me, if she were not design'd
Th'Eclypse and Glory of her kind?
In Form and Beauty of her mind,
By Vertue first, then Choyce a Queen,
Tell me, if she were not design'd
Th'Eclypse and Glory of her kind?
H. Wotton.
494
To a noble friend in his sickness.
Untimely Feaver, rude insulting guest,
How didst thou with such unharmonious heat
Dare to distune his well-composed rest;
Whose heart so just and noble stroaks did beat?
How didst thou with such unharmonious heat
Dare to distune his well-composed rest;
Whose heart so just and noble stroaks did beat?
What if his Youth and Spirits well may bear
More thick assaults, & stronger siege then this?
We measure not his courage, but our fear:
Not what our selves, but what the Times may miss.
More thick assaults, & stronger siege then this?
We measure not his courage, but our fear:
Not what our selves, but what the Times may miss.
Had not that blood, which thrice his veins did yeild,
Been better treasur'd for some glorious day
At farthest West to paint the liquid field,
And with new Worlds his Masters love to pay?
Been better treasur'd for some glorious day
At farthest West to paint the liquid field,
And with new Worlds his Masters love to pay?
But let those thoughts sweet Lord, repose a while,
Tend only now thy vigour to regain;
And pardon these poor Rimes, that would beguile
With mine own grief, some portion of thy pain.
Tend only now thy vigour to regain;
And pardon these poor Rimes, that would beguile
With mine own grief, some portion of thy pain.
H. W.
A short Hymn upon the Birth of Prince Charles.
You that on Stars do look,
Arrest not there your sight,
Though Nature's fairest Book,
And signed with propitious light,
Our Blessing now is more Divine
Then Planets that at Noon did shine.
Arrest not there your sight,
495
And signed with propitious light,
Our Blessing now is more Divine
Then Planets that at Noon did shine.
To thee alone be praise,
From whom our Joy descends,
Thou Cheerer of our Days,
Of Causes first, and last of Ends.
To thee this May we sing, by whom
Our Roses from the Lilies bloom.
From whom our Joy descends,
Thou Cheerer of our Days,
Of Causes first, and last of Ends.
To thee this May we sing, by whom
Our Roses from the Lilies bloom.
Upon this Royal flower,
Sprung from the chastest Bed,
Thy glorious sweetness shower,
And first let Myrtles crown his head,
Then Palms and Lawrels wreath'd between;
But let the Cypress late be seen.
Sprung from the chastest Bed,
Thy glorious sweetness shower,
And first let Myrtles crown his head,
Then Palms and Lawrels wreath'd between;
But let the Cypress late be seen.
And so succeeding men,
When they the fulness see
Of this our Joy, shall then
In consort joyn as well as we,
To Celebrate his Praise above,
That spreds our Land with fruits of Love.
When they the fulness see
Of this our Joy, shall then
In consort joyn as well as we,
To Celebrate his Praise above,
That spreds our Land with fruits of Love.
H. W.
496
An Ode to the KING,
At his returning from Scotland to the Queen: after his Coronation there.
Rouse up thy self, my gentle Muse,
Though now our green conceipts be gray,
And yet once more do not refuse
To take thy Phrygian Harp, and play,
In honour of this chearful Day.
Though now our green conceipts be gray,
And yet once more do not refuse
To take thy Phrygian Harp, and play,
In honour of this chearful Day.
Make first a Song of Joy and Love,
Which chastely flame in Royal Eyes,
Then, tune it to the Spheres above
When the benignest Stars do rise,
And sweet Conjunctions grace the Skies.
Which chastely flame in Royal Eyes,
Then, tune it to the Spheres above
When the benignest Stars do rise,
And sweet Conjunctions grace the Skies.
To this, let all good Hearts resound,
While Diadems invest his Head:
Long may he live, whose Life doth bound
More then his Lawes, and better Lead
By High Example, then by Dread.
While Diadems invest his Head:
Long may he live, whose Life doth bound
More then his Lawes, and better Lead
By High Example, then by Dread.
Long may He round about him see
His Roses and his Lilies bloom:
Long may his only Dear, and Hee
Joy in Ideas of their own,
And Kingdomes Hopes so timely sown.
Long may they both contend to prove,
That best of Crowns is such a Love.
His Roses and his Lilies bloom:
Long may his only Dear, and Hee
Joy in Ideas of their own,
And Kingdomes Hopes so timely sown.
Long may they both contend to prove,
That best of Crowns is such a Love.
497
Upon the sudden Restraint of the Earl of Somerset,
then falling from favour.
Dazel'd thus, with height of place,
Whilst our hopes our wits beguile,
No man marks the narrow space
'Twixt a prison, and a smile.
Whilst our hopes our wits beguile,
No man marks the narrow space
'Twixt a prison, and a smile.
Then, since fortunes favours fade,
You, that in her armes do sleep,
Learn to swim, and not to wade;
For, the Hearts of Kings are deep.
You, that in her armes do sleep,
Learn to swim, and not to wade;
For, the Hearts of Kings are deep.
But, if Greatness be so blind,
As to trust in towers of Aire,
Let it be with Goodness lin'd,
That at least, the Fall be fair.
As to trust in towers of Aire,
Let it be with Goodness lin'd,
That at least, the Fall be fair.
Then though darkned, you shall say,
When friends fail, and Princes frown,
Vertue is the roughest way,
But proves at night a Bed of Down.
When friends fail, and Princes frown,
Vertue is the roughest way,
But proves at night a Bed of Down.
H. W.
The Character of a happy Life.
How
happy is he born and taught,
That serveth not an others will?
VVhose Armour is his honest thought:
And simple Truth his utmost Skill?
That serveth not an others will?
VVhose Armour is his honest thought:
And simple Truth his utmost Skill?
498
Whose Passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepar'd for Death;
Untide unto the world, by care
Of Publick fame, or private breath.
Whose soul is still prepar'd for Death;
Untide unto the world, by care
Of Publick fame, or private breath.
Who envies none that Chance doth raise,
Nor Vice hath ever understood;
How deepest wounds are giv'n by praise,
Nor rules of State, but rules of good.
Nor Vice hath ever understood;
How deepest wounds are giv'n by praise,
Nor rules of State, but rules of good.
Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose Conscience is his strong retreat:
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruine make Oppressors great.
Whose Conscience is his strong retreat:
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruine make Oppressors great.
Who God doth late and early pray,
More of his grace, then gifts to lend:
And entertains the harmless day
With a Religious Book, or Friend.
More of his grace, then gifts to lend:
And entertains the harmless day
With a Religious Book, or Friend.
This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall:
Lord of himself, though not of Lands,
And having nothing: yet hath all.
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall:
Lord of himself, though not of Lands,
And having nothing: yet hath all.
H. W.
499
On a Bank as I sate a Fishing,
A description of the Spring.
And now all Nature seem'd in Love,
The lusty Sap began to move;
New Juice did stir th'embracing Vines;
And Birds had drawn their Valentines:
The jealous Trout, that low did lie,
Rose at a well-dissembled Flie:
There stood my friend, with patient Skill
Attending of his trembling quill.
Already were the Eaves possest
With the swift Pilgrims daubed nest.
The Groves already did rejoyce
In Philomels triumphing voyce.
The lusty Sap began to move;
New Juice did stir th'embracing Vines;
And Birds had drawn their Valentines:
The jealous Trout, that low did lie,
Rose at a well-dissembled Flie:
There stood my friend, with patient Skill
Attending of his trembling quill.
Already were the Eaves possest
With the swift Pilgrims daubed nest.
The Groves already did rejoyce
In Philomels triumphing voyce.
The showers were short; the weather mild;
The Morning fresh; the Evening smil'd.
The Morning fresh; the Evening smil'd.
Jone takes her neat-rub'd Pail, and now
She trips to milk the Sand-red Cow;
Where, for some sturdy foot-ball Swain,
Jone stroaks a sillibub, or twain.
She trips to milk the Sand-red Cow;
Where, for some sturdy foot-ball Swain,
Jone stroaks a sillibub, or twain.
The Fields and Gardens were beset
With Tulip, Crocus, Violet.
And now, though late, the Modest Rose
Did more then half a blush disclose.
Thus all look'd gay, all full of Chear,
To welcome the New-liveri'd year.
With Tulip, Crocus, Violet.
And now, though late, the Modest Rose
Did more then half a blush disclose.
Thus all look'd gay, all full of Chear,
To welcome the New-liveri'd year.
H. W.
500
A Translation of the CIV. Psalm to the Original Sense.
My
Soul exalt the Lord with Hymns of Praise:
O Lord my God, how boundless is thy might?
Whose Throne of State is cloth'd wth glorious raies
And round about hast roab'd thy self with light,
VVho like a Curtain hast the Heavens displaid,
And in the watry Roofs thy Chambers laid.
O Lord my God, how boundless is thy might?
Whose Throne of State is cloth'd wth glorious raies
And round about hast roab'd thy self with light,
VVho like a Curtain hast the Heavens displaid,
And in the watry Roofs thy Chambers laid.
VVhose Chariots are the thickned Clouds above,
VVho walk'st upon the winged winds below,
At whose Command the Airy Spirits move:
And fiery Meteors their obedience show.
VVho on his Base the earth didst firmly found,
And mad'st the Deep to circumvest it round.
VVho walk'st upon the winged winds below,
At whose Command the Airy Spirits move:
And fiery Meteors their obedience show.
VVho on his Base the earth didst firmly found,
And mad'st the Deep to circumvest it round.
The Waves that rise would drown the higest hill,
But at thy Check they flie, and when they hear
Thy thundring Voice, they post to do Thy will,
And bound their furies in their proper Sphere:
Where surging Flouds, and valing Ebs can tel,
That none beyond Thy Marks must sink or swell.
But at thy Check they flie, and when they hear
Thy thundring Voice, they post to do Thy will,
And bound their furies in their proper Sphere:
Where surging Flouds, and valing Ebs can tel,
That none beyond Thy Marks must sink or swell.
Who hath dispos'd but thou, the winding way
Where Springs down from the steepy Crags do beat,
At which both foster'd Beasts their thirsts allay,
And the wild Asses come to quench their heat;
Where Birds resort, and in their kind, thy Praise
Among the branches chant in warbling Laies:
Where Springs down from the steepy Crags do beat,
At which both foster'd Beasts their thirsts allay,
And the wild Asses come to quench their heat;
Where Birds resort, and in their kind, thy Praise
Among the branches chant in warbling Laies:
501
The Mounts are watered from thy dwelling place,
The Barns & Meads are fill'd for Man & Beast,
VVine glads the heart, and Oyl adorns the face
And Bread the staff whereon our strength doth rest:
Nor shrubs alone feel thy suffizing hand,
But even the Cedars that so proudly stand.
The Barns & Meads are fill'd for Man & Beast,
VVine glads the heart, and Oyl adorns the face
And Bread the staff whereon our strength doth rest:
Nor shrubs alone feel thy suffizing hand,
But even the Cedars that so proudly stand.
So have the Fowls their sundry Seats to breed,
The ranging Stork in stately Beeches dwels,
The climing Goats on hils securely feed,
The mining Conies shroud in rockie Cels:
Nor can the heavenly Lights their course forget,
The Moon her turns, or Sun his times to set.
The ranging Stork in stately Beeches dwels,
The climing Goats on hils securely feed,
The mining Conies shroud in rockie Cels:
Nor can the heavenly Lights their course forget,
The Moon her turns, or Sun his times to set.
Thou mak'st the Night to over-vail the Day;
Then savage Beasts creep from the silent Wood,
Then Lions whelps lie roaring for their Prey,
And at thy powerful Hand demand their food.
Who when at Morn they All recouch again,
Then toiling Man till Eve pursues his pain.
Then savage Beasts creep from the silent Wood,
Then Lions whelps lie roaring for their Prey,
And at thy powerful Hand demand their food.
Who when at Morn they All recouch again,
Then toiling Man till Eve pursues his pain.
O Lord, when on thy various Works we look,
How richly furnish'd is the Earth we tread!
Where, in the fair Contents of Nature's Book
We may the wonders of thy wisdom read;
Nor Earth alone. But Lo, the Sea so wide,
VVhere great and small, a world of Creatures glide.
How richly furnish'd is the Earth we tread!
Where, in the fair Contents of Nature's Book
We may the wonders of thy wisdom read;
Nor Earth alone. But Lo, the Sea so wide,
VVhere great and small, a world of Creatures glide.
There go the Ships that furrow out their way,
Yea, there of VVhales enormous sights we see,
VVhich yet have Scope among the Rest to play,
And All do wait for their support on Thee;
Who hast assign'd each Thing his proper food,
And in due season dost dispence Thy Good.
Yea, there of VVhales enormous sights we see,
VVhich yet have Scope among the Rest to play,
And All do wait for their support on Thee;
502
Who hast assign'd each Thing his proper food,
And in due season dost dispence Thy Good.
They gather when thy Gifts thou dost divide,
Their Stores abound, if thou thy hand enlarge;
Confus'd they are, when thou thy beams dost hide
In dust resolv'd, if thou their Breath discharge.
Again, when thou of Life renew'st the Seeds,
The withered Fields revest their chearful weeds.
Their Stores abound, if thou thy hand enlarge;
Confus'd they are, when thou thy beams dost hide
In dust resolv'd, if thou their Breath discharge.
Again, when thou of Life renew'st the Seeds,
The withered Fields revest their chearful weeds.
Be ever gloried here thy Soveraign Name,
That thou maist smile on All which thou hast made,
VVhose frown alone can shake this earthly frame,
And at whose touch the Hils in smoak shal vade.
For Me, may (while I breathe) both Harp and Voice
In sweet Inditement of thy Hymns rejoyce.
That thou maist smile on All which thou hast made,
VVhose frown alone can shake this earthly frame,
And at whose touch the Hils in smoak shal vade.
For Me, may (while I breathe) both Harp and Voice
In sweet Inditement of thy Hymns rejoyce.
Let Sinners fail, let all profanness cease,
His Praise, (my Soul) His Praise shall be thy Peace.
His Praise, (my Soul) His Praise shall be thy Peace.
H. W.
503
Tears at the Grave of Sr Albertus Morton (who was buried at Southampton) wept by Sir H. Wotton.
Silence
(in truth) would speak my sorrow best,
For's deepest wounds can east their feelings tel:
Yet, let me borrow from mine own unrest,
But time to bid Him, whom I lov'd, Farewel.
For's deepest wounds can east their feelings tel:
Yet, let me borrow from mine own unrest,
But time to bid Him, whom I lov'd, Farewel.
O my unhappy Lines! you that before
Have serv'd my youth to vent som wanton cries,
And now congeal'd with grief, can scarce implore
Strength to accent! Here my Albertus lies.
Have serv'd my youth to vent som wanton cries,
And now congeal'd with grief, can scarce implore
Strength to accent! Here my Albertus lies.
This is the sable Stone, this is the Cave
And womb of earth that doth his corps imbrace,
While others sing his praise, let me engrave
These bleeding Numbers, to adorn the place.
And womb of earth that doth his corps imbrace,
While others sing his praise, let me engrave
These bleeding Numbers, to adorn the place.
Here will I paint the Characters of woe,
Here will I pay my tribute to the Dead,
And here my faithful tears in showers shall flow
To humanize the Flints whereon I tread.
Here will I pay my tribute to the Dead,
And here my faithful tears in showers shall flow
To humanize the Flints whereon I tread.
Where though I mourn my matchless loss alone,
And none between my weakness judge and me,
Yet even these gentle walls allow my mone,
Whose doleful Echoes to my Plaints agree.
And none between my weakness judge and me,
Yet even these gentle walls allow my mone,
Whose doleful Echoes to my Plaints agree.
But, is He gone? and live I Ryming here,
As if some Muse would listen to my Lay?
When all distun'd sit waiting for their Dear,
And bathe the Banks where he was wont to play?
As if some Muse would listen to my Lay?
When all distun'd sit waiting for their Dear,
And bathe the Banks where he was wont to play?
Dwell thou in endless Light, discharged soul:
Freed now from natures & from Fortunes trust:
VVhile on this fluent Globe, my glass shall role,
And run the rest of my remaining dust.
Freed now from natures & from Fortunes trust:
504
And run the rest of my remaining dust.
H. Wotton.
Upon the death of Sir Albert Morton's Wife.
He first deceas'd: She for a little tri'dTo live without Him: lik'd it not, and di'd.
Hen. Wotton.
This Hymn was made by Sr H. Wotton,
when he was an Ambassadour at Venice, in the time of a great sickness there.
Eternal
Mover; whose diffused Glory,
To shew our groveling Reason what thou art,
Unfolds it self in Clouds of Natures story,
Where Man, thy proudest creature acts his Part;
VVhom yet (alas) I know not why, we call
The world's contracted sum, the little All.
To shew our groveling Reason what thou art,
Unfolds it self in Clouds of Natures story,
Where Man, thy proudest creature acts his Part;
VVhom yet (alas) I know not why, we call
The world's contracted sum, the little All.
For, what are we, but lumps of walking clay?
Why should we swel? whence should our spirits rise
Are not bruit Beasts as strong, and Birds as gay,
Trees longer liv'd, and creeping things as wise?
Only our souls was left an inward light,
To feel our weakness, and confess thy might.
Why should we swel? whence should our spirits rise
Are not bruit Beasts as strong, and Birds as gay,
Trees longer liv'd, and creeping things as wise?
Only our souls was left an inward light,
To feel our weakness, and confess thy might.
505
Thou then, our strength, Father of life and death,
To whom our thanks, our vows, our selvs we ow,
From Me thy tenant, of this fading Breath,
Accept those lines, which from thy goodnes flow,
And thou that wert thy Regal Prophets Muse,
Do not thy Praise in weaker strains refuse.
To whom our thanks, our vows, our selvs we ow,
From Me thy tenant, of this fading Breath,
Accept those lines, which from thy goodnes flow,
And thou that wert thy Regal Prophets Muse,
Do not thy Praise in weaker strains refuse.
Let these poor Notes ascend unto thy throne,
Where Majesty doth sit with Mercy crown'd,
VVhere my Redeemer lives, in whom alone
The errours of my wandring life are drown'd:
Where all the Quire of heaven resound the same,
That only Thine, Thine is the saving Name.
Where Majesty doth sit with Mercy crown'd,
VVhere my Redeemer lives, in whom alone
The errours of my wandring life are drown'd:
Where all the Quire of heaven resound the same,
That only Thine, Thine is the saving Name.
VVell then, my Soul, joy in the midst of Pain;
Thy Christ that conquer'd hell, shall from above
VVith greater triumph yet return again,
And conquer his own Justice with his Loves
Commanding Earth and Seas to render those
Unto his Bliss, for whom he paid his Woes.
Thy Christ that conquer'd hell, shall from above
VVith greater triumph yet return again,
And conquer his own Justice with his Loves
Commanding Earth and Seas to render those
Unto his Bliss, for whom he paid his Woes.
Now have I done: now are my thoughts at peace,
And now my Joyes are stronger then my grief:
I feel those Comforts that shall never cease,
Future in hope, but present in Belief.
Thy words are true, thy promises are just,
And thou wilt find thy dearly bought in Dust.
And now my Joyes are stronger then my grief:
I feel those Comforts that shall never cease,
Future in hope, but present in Belief.
Thy words are true, thy promises are just,
And thou wilt find thy dearly bought in Dust.
H. W.
FINIS.
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