 | Silex Scintillans |  |
Chearfulness.
1
Lord, with what courage, and delightI doe each thing
When thy least breath sustaines my wing!
I shine, and move
Like those above,
And (with much gladnesse
Quitting sadnesse,)
Make me faire dayes of every night.
2
Affliction thus, meere pleasure is,And hap what will,
If thou be in't, 'tis welcome still;
But since thy rayes
In Sunnie dayes
Thou dost thus lend
And freely spend,
Ah! what shall I return for this?
46
3
O that I were all Soul! that thouWouldst make each part
Of this poor, sinfull frame pure heart!
Then would I drown
My single one,
And to thy praise
A Consort raise
Of Hallelujahs here below.
| Silex Scintillans | |