The Song of Mary the Mother of Christ Containing the story of his life and passion. The teares of Christ in the garden: With The description of heauenly Ierusalem |
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The teares of our Sauiour in the Garden. |
 | The Song of Mary the Mother of Christ |  |
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The teares of our Sauiour in the Garden.
The meeke and gentle pledge of mortall peace
Christ Iesus, had receiu'd the paschall Lambe:
His holy trayne (vnto their ioyes encrease)
Had reapt the fruites, and tasted of the same.
The grace was sayd, the night approached on,
The fatall night, the night of care and moane.
Christ Iesus, had receiu'd the paschall Lambe:
His holy trayne (vnto their ioyes encrease)
Had reapt the fruites, and tasted of the same.
The grace was sayd, the night approached on,
The fatall night, the night of care and moane.
When as kinde Christ with his disciples went,
Vnto the Farme-house of Gethsemane:
And feeling heapes of sorrow, and lament
Afflict his heart, like to the troubled Sea:
Foorth wends he with three followers for to pray,
The rest he wil'd them, there a while to stay.
Vnto the Farme-house of Gethsemane:
And feeling heapes of sorrow, and lament
Afflict his heart, like to the troubled Sea:
Foorth wends he with three followers for to pray,
The rest he wil'd them, there a while to stay.
Along he walkes, and still his woe encreaseth,
Whiles Peter weepes, to see his Master sory:
Yet matchlesse Christ, his sorrow nere surceaseth,
So feruent griefe engirtes the King of glory.
The Sonnes of Zebede, with teares be waile him,
Yet more & more, his moanes doe still assaile him.
Whiles Peter weepes, to see his Master sory:
Yet matchlesse Christ, his sorrow nere surceaseth,
So feruent griefe engirtes the King of glory.
The Sonnes of Zebede, with teares be waile him,
Yet more & more, his moanes doe still assaile him.
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Oh reuerent browes with agony perplexed,
Loe bloud and gastly sweate together mixed:
The heart with horrour, care and griefe is vexed,
The flesh is frayle, the eyes with feare is fixed.
O rent my soule, in thought of his distresse,
Who dain'd these griefes thy dangers to redresse.
Loe bloud and gastly sweate together mixed:
The heart with horrour, care and griefe is vexed,
The flesh is frayle, the eyes with feare is fixed.
O rent my soule, in thought of his distresse,
Who dain'd these griefes thy dangers to redresse.
But when he felt no measure of his moane,
My soule, saith he, is heauy vnto death:
Then stay my friends for I will walke alone,
But watch and pray, whiles you inioy your breath.
So foorth he went, and flat vpon his face,
With pittious plaints, implor'd his Father grace.
My soule, saith he, is heauy vnto death:
Then stay my friends for I will walke alone,
But watch and pray, whiles you inioy your breath.
So foorth he went, and flat vpon his face,
With pittious plaints, implor'd his Father grace.
And thus he prayed: ô Father God of light,
(If it may be) let this vnseasoned cup
Of sorrow passe, that doth my soule affright,
For why in griefe, my heart is swallowed vp.
Yet not my will, but euen thy will be done,
Through whom by me this worke was first begun.
(If it may be) let this vnseasoned cup
Of sorrow passe, that doth my soule affright,
For why in griefe, my heart is swallowed vp.
Yet not my will, but euen thy will be done,
Through whom by me this worke was first begun.
Long lay he feeding on his wofull languish,
And in his cryes redoubled oft the same:
At last forgetting of his balefull anguish,
He rose, and straight to his Disciples came.
Who, through their cares and pittious teares there wept,
Without suspect of harmes securely slept.
And in his cryes redoubled oft the same:
At last forgetting of his balefull anguish,
He rose, and straight to his Disciples came.
Who, through their cares and pittious teares there wept,
Without suspect of harmes securely slept.
But he, the carefull Shepheard of his flocke,
Seeing the day of daungers neere at hand:
The foe of man, prepar'd his sheep to yoake,
With tender care, their mischiefes did withstand.
And waking them, he sayd vpon that stoure,
VVhat, can you not keep watch with me one houre?
Seeing the day of daungers neere at hand:
The foe of man, prepar'd his sheep to yoake,
With tender care, their mischiefes did withstand.
And waking them, he sayd vpon that stoure,
VVhat, can you not keep watch with me one houre?
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O watch and pray, temptations are too nye,
The Spirit willes, and yet the flesh saies nay:
With that the teares of pitty foorth did flye,
O words and teares which mercy did bewray.
And now the second charge approacheth on,
And pensiue Christ, alone to pray is gone.
The Spirit willes, and yet the flesh saies nay:
With that the teares of pitty foorth did flye,
O words and teares which mercy did bewray.
And now the second charge approacheth on,
And pensiue Christ, alone to pray is gone.
As sturdy trees with murmuring noyse lament,
The Northerne windes outragious blasts, that's gone
As flowers doe waile, when Sommer daies are spent,
To see theyr pride by nipping frostes vndone.
As day doth lowre, depriu'd of Sunnes delight,
And night complaines, when Moone reflectes no light.
The Northerne windes outragious blasts, that's gone
As flowers doe waile, when Sommer daies are spent,
To see theyr pride by nipping frostes vndone.
As day doth lowre, depriu'd of Sunnes delight,
And night complaines, when Moone reflectes no light.
As he laments, who neuer hopes for grace,
As lookes the man, that loathes his eyes haue sight:
As sighes the wofulst braunch of mortall race.
Compare their paines, their hope, their smal delight.
Yea, thinke more woes, thē we haue wayes to wring
And thinke by them what cares did Iesus sting.
As lookes the man, that loathes his eyes haue sight:
As sighes the wofulst braunch of mortall race.
Compare their paines, their hope, their smal delight.
Yea, thinke more woes, thē we haue wayes to wring
And thinke by them what cares did Iesus sting.
And iudge thereby if any wit might wote it,
Oh no, but he that hath the grace to sigh:
To thinke, to waile, to cry, to iudge and note it,
His soule shall rent, and crying out on high.
Say whiles his spirit doth Iesus terror view,
O bone pastor, O dulcis, dulcis Iesu.
Oh no, but he that hath the grace to sigh:
To thinke, to waile, to cry, to iudge and note it,
His soule shall rent, and crying out on high.
Say whiles his spirit doth Iesus terror view,
O bone pastor, O dulcis, dulcis Iesu.
His browes (the tables where our peace is written)
With purple bloud, and Amber sweate were stain'd,
His heauy lookes, disclos'd the heart was bitten,
His weeping eyes, his wofull state complain'd.
His folded armes, his reuerent knees that bended,
His hydious harmes, and endlesse cares intended.
With purple bloud, and Amber sweate were stain'd,
His heauy lookes, disclos'd the heart was bitten,
His weeping eyes, his wofull state complain'd.
His folded armes, his reuerent knees that bended,
His hydious harmes, and endlesse cares intended.
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Here stands dispaire, that shold haue swallowed man
And threatneth him with death, for our offences:
Sinne, with recountlesse shapes afflictes him than,
Hell shewes the horror, Sathan his pretences.
Meane while our Lord (that neuer thought on ill)
Endurde those threatning plagues to saue vs still.
And threatneth him with death, for our offences:
Sinne, with recountlesse shapes afflictes him than,
Hell shewes the horror, Sathan his pretences.
Meane while our Lord (that neuer thought on ill)
Endurde those threatning plagues to saue vs still.
O were each thought, transformed to a pen,
And euery pen, of power to write an age:
And euery age, could take his forme agen,
And euery forme, did serue but for a Page!
All would not serue, then sigh and say thou this:
Quid retribuam Domino pro omnibus beneficiis?
And euery pen, of power to write an age:
And euery age, could take his forme agen,
And euery forme, did serue but for a Page!
All would not serue, then sigh and say thou this:
Quid retribuam Domino pro omnibus beneficiis?
The hostes of heauen, were moued with his moane,
Whilst he with teares, his Fathers grace implores:
And euery period was a bitter groane,
Euen thus the Sonne of God his Lord adores.
Father, if thou wilt remooue from me
This cup? if not, thy will fulfilled be.
Whilst he with teares, his Fathers grace implores:
And euery period was a bitter groane,
Euen thus the Sonne of God his Lord adores.
Father, if thou wilt remooue from me
This cup? if not, thy will fulfilled be.
Heerewith, th'imperiall gates of heauen, began
To open wide, and from the bright-some throane,
Of him who rul'd the world, and fashion'd man,
An Angell bright, with wauing wings is gone,
And there alights: whereas the God of light
Lay quite dismayed, and rob'd of all delight.
To open wide, and from the bright-some throane,
Of him who rul'd the world, and fashion'd man,
An Angell bright, with wauing wings is gone,
And there alights: whereas the God of light
Lay quite dismayed, and rob'd of all delight.
As Sea-men smiles, when after stormy blasts,
The radiant Sunne commands the warring windes
And trimmes his Tackles, and repayres his Masts,
And mends each Leake, that he by serching findes.
So fares distressed Christ, when he did view,
The help of heauen, his onely sorrows dew.
The radiant Sunne commands the warring windes
And trimmes his Tackles, and repayres his Masts,
And mends each Leake, that he by serching findes.
So fares distressed Christ, when he did view,
The help of heauen, his onely sorrows dew.
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He gathered his distempered sprites in one,
Whilst that the Angels whispered in his eare
His Fathers will: then liftes he vp anonn
His reuerend head, that gan his eyes to cleare,
And foorth he walkes, and at the becke againe,
The Angell parts, and hasteth thence amaine.
Whilst that the Angels whispered in his eare
His Fathers will: then liftes he vp anonn
His reuerend head, that gan his eyes to cleare,
And foorth he walkes, and at the becke againe,
The Angell parts, and hasteth thence amaine.
Arriued there where his Disciples lay,
He found thē sleeping, through their cares fore-past:
And thus bespake: Why sleep you? rise and pray,
For why, temptations doe approach vs fast.
His pensiue traine were whist and could not tell,
How to excuse the slouth in them did dwell.
He found thē sleeping, through their cares fore-past:
And thus bespake: Why sleep you? rise and pray,
For why, temptations doe approach vs fast.
His pensiue traine were whist and could not tell,
How to excuse the slouth in them did dwell.
Againe from them, vnto his prayer he goes,
Loosing the fountaines of his eyes at large:
His restles limbes vpon the earth he throwes,
And thus with sighes his prayers he doth discharge.
O Father looke, looke Father on my sheep.
That thou hast lent thy pensiue Sonne to keep.
Loosing the fountaines of his eyes at large:
His restles limbes vpon the earth he throwes,
And thus with sighes his prayers he doth discharge.
O Father looke, looke Father on my sheep.
That thou hast lent thy pensiue Sonne to keep.
O loue them Lord, for why the world disdaines them,
And why? because they are not worldly minded:
T'hard hearted wolues, heereafter oft will paine thē,
Oh help their wants, Lord let them not be blinded.
For them I weep, for them I shed my teares:
Father, regard my suite with open eares.
And why? because they are not worldly minded:
T'hard hearted wolues, heereafter oft will paine thē,
Oh help their wants, Lord let them not be blinded.
For them I weep, for them I shed my teares:
Father, regard my suite with open eares.
Let them whose sinnes exceede the sandy Seas,
Whose hope is drown'd, whose heart is stain'd with feares:
Euen by my death, thy bitter wrath appease,
Father, for them I shed these brinish teares.
O let my weeping, wound thine eares diuine,
And mooue compassion, for these flockes of mine.
Whose hope is drown'd, whose heart is stain'd with feares:
Euen by my death, thy bitter wrath appease,
Father, for them I shed these brinish teares.
O let my weeping, wound thine eares diuine,
And mooue compassion, for these flockes of mine.
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Heere ceast his teares and prayers, for why the houre
Of griefe and death approached neere at hand:
So foorth he hastes vpon that haplesse stoure,
And found his followers sleeping on the land.
Sleepe hardly, saith he, take your ease at will,
The houre is come of sorrow and of ill.
Of griefe and death approached neere at hand:
So foorth he hastes vpon that haplesse stoure,
And found his followers sleeping on the land.
Sleepe hardly, saith he, take your ease at will,
The houre is come of sorrow and of ill.
The Sonne of man, already is betrayed
To sinners hands arise and let vs goe:
With that, with hearts appal'd and quite dismayed,
They all arose to tend the houre of woe.
Whilst traiterous Iudas with his traine appeares,
Armed with staues, with clubs and warlike speares.
To sinners hands arise and let vs goe:
With that, with hearts appal'd and quite dismayed,
They all arose to tend the houre of woe.
Whilst traiterous Iudas with his traine appeares,
Armed with staues, with clubs and warlike speares.
The cursed out-cast of the twelue betray'd
His heauenly Master by a cursed kisse:
His foes to touch his person were affraide,
Short tale to tell, our Lord supprised is.
And bound with bonds, vnto the place is led,
Where all the high Priestes dwelt vpon that sted.
His heauenly Master by a cursed kisse:
His foes to touch his person were affraide,
Short tale to tell, our Lord supprised is.
And bound with bonds, vnto the place is led,
Where all the high Priestes dwelt vpon that sted.
FINIS.
| The Song of Mary the Mother of Christ | |