University of Virginia Library

L'Envoy.

O the new worlds new, quickning Sun!
Ever the same, and never done!
The seers of whose sacred light
Shall all be drest in shining white,
And made conformable to his
Immortal shape, who wrought their bliss,
Arise, arise!
And like old cloaths fold up these skies,
This long worn veyl: then shine and spread
Thy own bright self over each head,
And through thy creatures pierce and pass
Till all becomes thy cloudless glass,
Transparent as the purest day
And without blemish or decay,

83

Fixt by thy spirit to a state
For evermore immaculate.
A state fit for the sight of thy
Immediate, pure and unveil'd eye,
A state agreeing with thy minde,
A state thy birth, and death design'd:
A state for which thy creatures all
Travel and groan, and look and call.
O seeing thou hast paid our score,
Why should the curse reign any more?
But since thy number is as yet
Unfinish'd, we shall gladly sit
Till all be ready, that the train
May fully fit thy glorious reign.
Onely, let not our haters brag,
Thy seamless coat is grown a rag,
Or that thy truth was not here known,
Because we forc'd thy judgements down.
Dry up their arms, who vex thy spouse,
And take the glory of thy house
To deck their own; then give thy saints
That faithful zeal, which neither faints
Nor wildly burns, but meekly still
Dares own the truth, and shew the ill.
Frustrate those cancerous, close arts
Which cause solution in all parts,
And strike them dumb, who for meer words
Wound thy beloved, more then swords.
Dear Lord, do this! and then let grace
Descend, and hallow all the place
Incline each hard heart to do good,
And cement us with thy sons blood,
That like true sheep, all in one fold
We may be fed, and one minde hold.
Give watchful spirits to our guides!
For sin (like water) hourly glides
By each mans door and quickly will
Turn in, if not obstructed still.

84

Therefore write in their hearts thy law,
And let these long, sharp judgements aw
Their very thoughts, that by their clear
And holy lives, mercy may here
Sit regent yet, and blessings flow
As full as persecutions now.
So shall we know in war and peace
Thy service to be our sole ease,
With prostrate souls adoring thee,
Who turn'd our sad captivity!
[_]

S. Clemens apud Basil: Ζη ο Θεο, ()οκυος Ιησους Χ()σος, () τονευμα το αγεον.


FINIS.