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

Thou , thath wast nailed to the Crosse for me,
Lest I stould slip, and fall away from thee,
Drive home thine holy feare into mine heart,
And clench it so, that it may ne'er depart.

Ode. 46.

1

What? do'st thou struggle to get loose againe?
Hast thou so soone forgot the former paine,
That thy licentious bondage unto sinne,
And lust enlarged thraldome, put thee in?
Hast thou a mind againe to rove, and ramble
Rogue-like a vagrant through the world, and scramble
For scraps, and crusts of earth bred base delights,
And change thy dayes of joy for tedious nights
Of sad repentant sorrow?
What? wilt thou borrow
That griefe to day, which thou must pay to morrow?

2

No, self-deceiving heart, lest thou should'st cast
Thy cords away, and burst the bands at last
Of thy Redeemers tender love, I'll try
What further fastnesse in his feare doth lie.
The cords of love soaked in lust may rot,

186

And bands of bounty are too oft forgot:
But holy filiall feare, like to a naile
Fast ned in a sure place, will never faile.
This driven home will take
Fast hold, and make
Thee that thou darest not thy God forsake.

3

Remember how, besides thy Saviours bands,
Wherewith they led him bound, his holy hands,
And feet, were pierced, how they nail'd him fast
Unto his bitter crosse, and how at last
His precious side was goared with a speare.
So hard sharp-pointed ir'n, and steel did teare
His tender flesh; that from those wounds might flow
The sov'raigne salve for sin-procured woe.
Then that thou mai'st not faile
Of that availe,
Refuse not to be fast'ned with his naile.

4

Love in an heart of flesh is apt to taint,
Or be fly-blowne with folly: and its faint
And feeble spirits, when it shewes most faire,
Are often fed on by the empty aire
Of popular applause, unlesse the salt
Of holy feare in time prevent the fault:
But season'd so it will be kept for ever.
He, that doth feare because he loves, will never
Adventure to offend,
But alwayes bend
His best endeavours to content his friend.

5

Though perfect love cast out all servile feare,
Because such feare hath torment: yet thy dear
Redeemer meant not so to set thee free,

187

That filiall feare, and thou should strangers be.
Though, as a sonne, thou honour him thy father,
Yet, as a master, thou maist feare him rather.
Feare's the soules Centinell, and keepes the heart,
Wherein love lodges so, that all the art,
And industry, of those,
That are its foes,
Cannot betray it to its former woes.

University of Virginia Library

The fastening of the Heart.

Epigr. 46.

Ode. 46.

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