XII. GALATIANS VI. XIV.
God forbid that I should glory, save in the Crosse.
1
Can nothing settle my uncertaine brest
And fix my rambling Love?
Can my Affections find out nothing best?
But still, and still remove?
Has earth no mercy? Will no Ark of Rest
Receive my restlesse Dove?
Is there no Good, than which there's nothing higher,
To blesse my full desire
With Joyes that never change; with Joyes that nev'r expire?
2
I wanted wealth; and, at my deare request,
Earth lent a quick supply;
I wanted Mirth, to charme my sullen brest;
And who more brisk than I?
I wanted Fame, to glorifie the rest;
My Fame flew Eagle high:
My Joy not fully ripe, but all decaid;
Wealth vanisht like a shade;
My mirth began to flag, my Fame began to fade.
3
The world's an Ocean, hurried to and fro,
With ev'ry blast of passion:
Her lustfull streames, when either ebb or flow,
Are tides of mans vexation:
They alter daily, and they daily grow
The worse by alteration;
The Earth's a Cask full tun'd, yet wanting measure;
Her precious wine, is pleasure;
Her Yest is Honours puffe; Her Lees are worldly treasure.
4
My trust is in the Crosse: Let Beauty flag
Her loose, her wanton saile;
Let count'nance-gilding Honour cease to brag
In courtly termes, and vale;
Let ditch-bred wealth, henceforth, forget to wag
Her base, though golden taile;
False beauties conquest is but reall losse,
And wealth but golden drosse;
Best Honour's but a blast: my trust is in the Crosse.
5
My trust is in the Crosse: There lies my rest;
My fast, my sole delight;
Let cold-mouth'd Boreas, or the hot-mouth'd East
Blow till they burst with spight;
Let earth and hell conspire their worst, their best,
And joyne their twisted might:
Let showres of Thunderbolts dart down, and wound me,
And troupes of Fiends surround me,
All this may well confront; all this shall nev'r confound me.
S. AUGUST.
Christs Crosse is the Chriscrosse of all our happinesse; It delivers us from
blindnesse of errour, and enriches our darknesse with light; It restores
the troubled soule to rest; It brings strangers to Gods Acquaintance; It makes
remote forreiners neare neighbours; It cuts off discord; concludes a league of
everlasting peace, and is the bounteous Author of all Good.
S. BERN. in Ser. de resur.
We find glory in the Crosse; To us that are saved it is the power of God,
and the fulnesse of all vertues.
EPIGRAM 12.
[I follow'd Rest, Rest fled, and soone forsooke me]
I follow'd Rest, Rest fled, and soone forsooke me;
I ran from Griefe, Griefe ran, and over-tooke me.
What shall I doe? Lest I be too much tost
On worldly Crosses, LORD, let me be crost.
