Schola Cordis or the Heart of it Selfe, gone away from God ::

Mine heart, alas, exalts it self too high,
And doth delight a loftier pitch to flye,
Then it is able to maintaine, unlesse
It feel the weight of thine imposed presse.

Ode. 15.

1

So let it be,
Lord, I am well content,
And thou shalt see
The time is not mis-spent,
Which thou dost then bestow, when thou dost quell
And crush the heart, that pride before did swell.

2

Lord, I perceive
As soone as thou dost send,
And I receive
The blessings thou dost lend,
Mine heart begins to mount, and doth forget
The ground whereon it goes, where it is set.

3

In health I grew
Wanton, began to kick,
As though I knew
I never should be sick.
Diseases take me downe, and make me know,
Bodies of brasse must pay the death they owe.

4

If I but dreame
Of wealth, mine heart doth rise
With a full streame
Of pride, and I despise
All that is good, untill I wake, and spie
The swelling bubble prickt with poverty.

5

A little wind
Of undeserved praise
Blowes up my mind,
And my swoll'n thoughts doth raise
Above themselves, untill the sense of shame
Makes me contemne my self-dishonour'd name.

6

One moments mirth
Would make me run starke mad,
And the whole earth,
Could it at once be had,
Would not suffice my greedy appetite,
Did'st thou not paine in stead of pleasure write.

7

Lord, it is well,
I was in time brought downe,
Else thou canst tell,
Mine heart would soone have flow'n

Full in thy face, and studi'd to requite
The riches of thy goodnesse with despight.

8

Slack not thine hand,
Lord, turne thy Screw about:
If thy Presse stand,
Mine heart may chance slip out.
O quest it unto nothing, rather then
It should forget it selfe, and swell again.

9

Or if thou art
Dispos'd to let it goe,
Lord, teach mine heart
To lay it selfe as low,
As thou canst cast it: that prosperity
May still be temper'd with humility.

10

Thy way to rise
Was to descend: let me
My selfe despise,
And so ascend with thee.
Thou throw'st them down, that lift themselves on high,
And raisest them, that on the ground doe lie.

University of Virginia Library

The humiliation of the Heart.

Epigr. 15.

Ode. 15.

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