Schola Cordis or the Heart of it Selfe, gone away from God brought back againe to him & instructed by him in 47 Emblems [by Christopher Harvey] |
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| 18. | The giving of the Heart. |
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 | Schola Cordis or the Heart of it Selfe, gone away from God |  |
73
The giving of the Heart.
My sonne give me thine heart.
Prov. 23. 21.
Epigr. 18.
The onely love, the onely feare, thou art,Dear, and dread Saviour, of my sin-sick heart.
Thine heart thou gavest, that it might be mine:
Take thou mine heart then, that it may be thine.
Ode. 18.
1
Give thee mine heart? Lord so I would,And there's great reason that I should,
If it were worth the having:
Yet sure thou wilt esteem that good,
Which thou hast purchas'd with thy bloud,
And thought it worth the craving.
2
Give thee mine heart? Lord, so I will,If thou wilt first impart the skill
Of bringing it to thee:
But should I trust my selfe to give
Mine heart, as sure as I doe live,
I should deceived be.
3
As all the value of mine heartProceeds from favour, not defeit,
Acceptance is its worth:
74
A present to my heav'nly King,
Unlesse he set it forth.
4
Lord of my life, me thinkes I heareThee say, that thee alone to feare,
And thee alone to love,
Is to bestow mine heart on thee,
That other giving none can be,
Whereof thou wilt approve.
5
And well thou dost deserve to beBoth loved Lord, and fear'd by me,
So good, so great, thou art:
Greatnesse so good, goodnesse so great,
As passeth all finite conceit,
And ravisheth mine heart.
6
Should I not love thee, blessed Lord,Who freely of thine owne accord
Laid'st downe thy life for me?
For me, that was not dead alone,
But desp'ratly transcendent grown
In enmitie to thee?
7
Should I not feare before thee, Lord,Whose hand spannes heaven, at whose word
Devills themselves doe quake?
Whose eyes out-shine the Sunne, whose beck
Can the whole course of Nature check,
And its foundations shake?
8
Should I with-hold mine heart from thee,75
Before whose presence is
Fulnesse of joy, at whose right hand
All pleasures in perfection stand,
And everlasting blisse?
9
Lord, had I hearts a million,And myriads in ev'ry one
Of choisest loves, and feares,
They were too little to bestow
On thee, to whom I all things owe,
I should be in arreares.
10
Yet, since mine heart's the most I have,And that which thou dost chiefely crave,
Thou shalt not of it misse.
Although I cannot give it so,
As I should doe, I'll offer't though:
Lord take it, here it is.
| Schola Cordis or the Heart of it Selfe, gone away from God | |