University of Virginia Library

THE HART CONSECRATED to the loue of Iesvs.

The Hymne.

Iesv , behold the hart dilates
It-selfe to thee, and consecrates
It's triple power, and al within.
But oh! that heauy burden, sinne,
Drawes to the earth, and makes it fal
From high aspiring thoughts. Not al,
Who now support, giue it repose;
Thou art the Atlas, here enclose
Thy selfe within the hart, giue rest
To it, which otherwise opprest, sinks down.
With the heauy load, the world,
Make it despise (to gaine a crowne),
The earth, it's Nathir, and with thee
It's Zenith make Eternity.

THE VVORLD, THE FLESH, THE DIVEL, assaile the hart, Iesvs saues it for himself.

The Hymne.

Myne eyes are open now I see
The nets & snares prepare for me
The world, and flesh haue laid their baits
T'allure my hart, the diuel waits.
Vvhile pleasures of a moment [past
E're th' are enioyd] entice: He last
But first protectour, midst those ginnes,
Midst snares, & tangling nets of sinnes
Lies lurking: And when he' spies
The bird ensnared, out he flies:
O IESV, may my prayer be heard,
Spread forth thy nets, I am thy bird
To catch my hart, 'a Pitfal make
Set lime-twigs, doe but touch & take.

THE MOST AMOVROVS IESVS KNOCKS AT the doore of the hart.

The Hymne.

I saw a little glimps of light
As I lay slumbring in the night,
Vvhich through a cranny of my wal
Glaunc'd on mine eyes & therewith-al,
I heard one speake, and rapping hard,
Vvhile al my doores were lockt & bar'd
Vvith that I half awakt lookt round,
And in my hart a theife I found
Discouered by the light. The wals
Vvere bare, & naked, while he cals
Vvho stood without, more light appeares,
T'augment my hopes, & lessen feares;
Then, IESV, I cry'd out, come in,
Here's nought but a priuation sinne.

IESVS SEARCHETH OVT THE MONSTERS lurking in the darke corners of the hart.

The Hymne.

My sinnes I thought lay out of sight,
But now I see, al comes to light,
When he to search doth once begin,
Who finds an Attome of a sinne
See there an ougly monster breaths,
An other here, with horrid wreathts,
Is lurking in this darksome caue.
Oh had I sooner what I haue
Of light; I think no loathsome beast
Had in my hart, made-vp his nest.
Oh IESV, stil thy beames display,
Al this is but the breake of day.
Vouchsafe to send with lustre heat,
To make it lightsome, feruent, neat.

IESVS SVVEEPS THE DVST OF SINNES from the hart.

The Hymne.

O IESV thou art come from Heauen,
Find'st lying al at, fix and seauen,
In seueral shapes, my horrid sinnes
To sweep away, the broome begins;
Not like the chips, when thou didst keep
At home, and with the besome sweep
The dust, and little chips, which flew
About the house, but now in view,
Thou sweep'st, as chips cut from that tree
Which was the sourse of misery,
Those mōsters, loathsom dust, where breeds
Th' old serpent; on this filth he feeds.
Hels Scauendger, come take thy load,
The muck the viper, serpent, toad.

IESVS THE LIVING FOVNTAINE IN THE Hart.

THE HYMNE.

Behold the fountaines liuing springs:
Both here & there in Angel bring:
Souls soyl'd with vgly spots within:
Oh how I now am loathing sin!
Which nought could wash but streames of bloud,
That issued from Christs wounds ô floud!
The sourse from whence thy torrent flowes,
Is IESVS hart? 'tis that bestowes
Eu'n the lasts drop, to cleanse my spots.
O scribled hart, with blurrs & blots
Of horrid crimes! wash, wash, with teares,
Thy sinnes. Thy paper written beares
Being once made white, (what doth afford,
Al ioy, content, repose) the WORD.

IESVS PVRGETH THE HART WITH expiatory bloud.

The Hymne.

O hart lie open freely take,
These sprinckled drops enough to slake
The flames of lust and quench the fire,
Of bel it-self, O Hart desire
Thy Lord, now is he entred in,
To put to flight the deuil sinn,
The world the flesh: Behold h'is gone,
Thy contrite hart plow'd, harrowd, sown,
May, watered with his heauenly dew,
Spring forth, and fructify anew:
To which annex some pearlik drops,
That thou with ioy maist reap thy crops.
Raine followes wind; sigh, teares begin,
And drown as with a deluge sinne.

IESVS RVLES AND REIGNES IN THE louing & deuout hart.

The Hymne.

O mightie Soueraigne, if you please,
To deigne a looke & view our seas;
Where harts like ships with wind & tide
Are sayling; some at anker ride,
Some with waues and boystrous windes
Tost to & fro; 'mongst them you find
My floating hart, with euery blast
Of greife or of affliction past,
As 'twere immersed with in the maine.
But yet, Greate Monarch, if you deigne
To be my Neptune, or to guide
The sterne of my poore hart, beside
The surges flying ore my decks,
Reigne in my hart, let Hel play reks.

IESVS TEACHETH the deuout hart.

The Hymne.

O IESV speake, thy seruant heares,
But thou must find me pliant eares,
For of it-self my hart and wil
Is seeking drops that doe distil
From a limbeck that's rais'd on high
With streines of wit, which soon are dry.
Oh let me heare what thou dost speake
(Peace) in my hart! Ah, if it leake,
As doth a vessel pierced through,
It naught avails to heare. For how
Can I retaine that in my breast,
Except some heat of grace digest?
Oh with thy lessons that impart!
With thee Ile soone get al by hart.

IESVS PAINTS THE IMAGES OF THE LAST things in the table of the hart.

The Hymne.

O rare Apelles; loe the frame,
My hart; but first prepare the same,
Which is al slubbered 'ore with sinne,
Wipe al away, and then begin
To draw the shapes of vertue here
And make the foure last things appeare:
That no Chimeraes of the brayne,
Or Phantasies I may retayne.
Besides vouchsafe to draw some Saint,
Begin, sweet IESV, figure paint,
Whom I may imitate, and loue,
As did Narcissus. From aboue
Descend Apelles, thou diuine,
Come euery day and draw some line.

IESVS BRINGS IN THE CROSSE INTO the hart, and easily imprints it in the louer.

THE HYMNE.

Hast thou no Harbinger to bring
Thy furniture, so great a King,
But must thy self in person come
To order al, and hang this roome?
My hart alas! it hardly brooks,
To be transfixt with tenter hooks;
For nayles and hammer, now I see,
And ladder, al prepar'd for me.
Ah! without sheets I see thy bed;
Thy Crosse, no bolster for thy head
Except it be a crowne of thorne,
Thy canopy is Heauen forlorne.
Al things lament thy paynes to see,
IESV come in, I'l mourne with thee.

THE HART CONSECRATED TO THE loue of IESVS is a flourishing garden.

The Hymne.

Iesvs , thy power and gratious wil
Is alwayes drawing good from il,
And life from death, and ioy from grones,
And Abrahams childrē makst of stones.
Behold a quick-set is my hart,
With thornes and bryars on euery parte;
One drop of bloud alone thou shedst
Wil make a rose, wheres'er thou treadst:
Oh may my hart sweet odours breath
Of vertue! Ah! thy thorny wreath
That pearc'd into thy brayne made red
And purple roses on thy head.
Then for my sinnes, that I may mourne,
With roses grant a pricking thorne.

IESVS SINGS IN THE QVIRE OF THE hart, to the Angels playing on musical instruments.

THE HYMNE.

If thou within my hart wouldst awel;
O IESV, then what Philomel,
Could warble with so sugred throte,
To make me listen to her note?
The Syrens of the world to me;
Would seeme to make no harmony.
When they a long a large resound
Of pleasures, thou dost them confound,
Chanting a long, a large to me,
With ecchoing voyce, Eternity!
A briefe of pleasure, with like strayne
Thou soundst a long of endlesse payne,
The Diapason, ioyes for me,
To liue in blisse eternally.

IESVS THE SONNE OF DAVID, PLAYES ON the harp in the hart, vvhile the Angels sing.

The Hymne.

VVhen IESVS doth my hart inspire,
As Orpheus, with his tuned lire,
The trees with power attractiue drew,
My hart deep rooted (where it grew
In baren soyle without content)
So powerfully he drawes, that rent
From thence, it followes him, takes root,
And so self-loue, which had set foot
Is banished farre, who charm'd before
My hart deluded. Euermore
IESV be al in al, my part,
My God, musitian to my hart,
And harmony, which solace brings
Ah touch my hart, & tune it's strings.

IESVS RESTS IN the louers hart.

The Hymne.

Behold my hart doth Christ enclose,
While he doth sleep I doe repose:
As I in him, he rests in me.
If he awake, I needs must be
The cause, that made the noise within;
For nought disquiets him but sin.
But I with crosses, soon am vext.
With iniuries and cares perplext,
And I, who should my wil resigne,
Am soone disturb'd greiue, fret, repine:
Til IESVS doth his grace impart,
Who giues repose vnto my hart;
O happy hart, with such a guest,
Which here hath what he giues thee, rest.

IESVS VVOVNDS AND PIERCED THE hart vvith the shafts of loue.

The Hymne.

The Diuels Archer, Erbinger
Of lust blind Cupid did appear,
But durst not stay to bend his bow,
He saw the hart with arrowes glow,
Which made him slinke away the chast
And spotles hart he cannot blast,
Which being cleans'd from sinne, is shut
From that blind hoy, whose only but
Are harts polluted, without white.
Behold the woūds Christ makes, delighte
See where the Angels pointing stand,
Giue ayme, by lifting vp their hand;
Or rather while the shafts abound,
Wish they had harts that he might woūd.

THE HART ENFLAMED WITH THE LOVE of IESVS shines al vvith light and flames.

The Hymne.

Come Moyses to the bush, draw nere:
Now God Incarnate doth appeare,
Man's hart the bush (cease to admire)
With flames of loue he sets on fire.
See here the scortching flakes and fume
Of prayer, which burne & not consume,
But only drosse of sinne. Behold
A hart refin'd of tryed gold:
A Bush wherin loue so contriues,
That IESVS, Phenix-like reuiues,
Amidst sweet aromatike sents.
A bush wherin one that contents
Is al in al. And now though rare
One bird in bush is better farre.

IESVS CROVVNES HIS DEARE HART WITH Palmes and Laurels.

The Hymne.

The restles hart, which heretofore,
Could not stand stil, but euermore
Was beating oft with throbs opprest
Til now could neuer be at rest.
It was ambitious, now I find.
Naught could content th' aspiring mind:
Had honours, pleasures, wealth good store,
Yet euer craued, was seeking more:
Which shew'd there was yet somthing stil
Which this capacious hart might fil.
A triangle, the soule, hath three
Distinctiue powers. The Trinity
Is such, that fils it; rest is found,
Loe th' hart is quiet, new its crowned.

IESVS CELEBRATES THE HEAVENLY Nuptials in the hart.

The Hymne.

The nuptial supper, now I see,
O happy soule! prepar'd for thee;
The table's couerd: but what seat,
Hast thou for thy repose? What meat?
Except a Lamb, I nothing find,
The amourous Spouse is now so kind,
That what he fed thee with before;
From th' eye shalbe conceal'd no more.
As with a fleece, in species white,
He long on earth appear'd in sight.
As with a fleece, by grace gaue heat:
But now behold the Lamb thy meat.
In him repose, freed from annoy
By seeing, comprehend, enioy.

IESVS MANIFESTES HIMSELF AND THE MOST holy Trinity in the mirrour of the hart.

The Hymne.

The Painter cannot draw a face,
T'express to life each feature, grace,
And figure, with proportion fit
Except the partie drowne doth sit:
But heer in th' hart by being seen,
God drawes the picture which had been
Before imperfect: though't were neat,
And often toucht, 'twas not compleat.
Til now, it lightned as vpon see,
True picture of the Trinity.
The colours stem'd did fak and eye,
But now shal last eternally.
While heer the hart doth quiet fit,
By vision God doth figure it.