Silex Scintillans sacred poems and private ejaculations. The second Edition, In two Books; By Henry Vaughan, Silurist |
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| II. |
Jesus weeping. |
 | Silex Scintillans |  |
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Jesus weeping.
Blessed, unhappy City? dearly lov'd
But still unkinde! art this day nothing mov'd!
Art senseless still? O can'st thou sleep
When God himself for thee doth weep!
Stiff-necked Jews! your fathers breed
That serv'd the calf, not Abr'ams seed,
Had not the Babes Hosanna cryed,
The stones had spoke, what you denyed
But still unkinde! art this day nothing mov'd!
Art senseless still? O can'st thou sleep
When God himself for thee doth weep!
Stiff-necked Jews! your fathers breed
That serv'd the calf, not Abr'ams seed,
Had not the Babes Hosanna cryed,
The stones had spoke, what you denyed
Dear Jesus weep on! pour this latter
Soul quickning rain, this living water
On their dead hearts; but (O my fears!)
They will drink blood, that despise tears.
My dear, bright Lord! my Morning-star!
Shed this live-dew on fields which far
From hence long for it! shed it there,
Where the starv'd earth groans for one tear!
Soul quickning rain, this living water
On their dead hearts; but (O my fears!)
They will drink blood, that despise tears.
My dear, bright Lord! my Morning-star!
Shed this live-dew on fields which far
From hence long for it! shed it there,
Where the starv'd earth groans for one tear!
This land, though with thy hearts blest extract fed,
Will nothing yield but thorns to wound thy head.
Will nothing yield but thorns to wound thy head.
| Silex Scintillans | |