His light shall be dark, and his candle shall be put out.
JOB 18. 6.
1
What ayles our Tapour? Is her luster fled,
Or foyl'd? What dire disaster bred
This Change? that thus she vailes her golden head?
2
It was but very now she shin'd as faire
As Venus starre: Her glory might compare
With Cynthia, burnisht with her brothers haire.
3
There was no Cave-begotten damp that mought
Abuse her beames; no wind, that went about
To breake her peace; no Puffe, to put her out.
4
Lift up thy wondring thoughts, and thou shalt spye
A Cause, will cleare thy doubts, but cloud thine eye:
Subjects must vaile, when as their Sov'raign's by.
5
Canst thou behold bright Phoebus, and thy sight
No whit impayr'd? The object is too bright;
The weaker yeelds unto the stronger Light.
6
Great God, I am thy Tapour; Thou, my Sunne;
From thee, the Spring of Light, my Light begun,
Yet if thy Light but shine, my light is done.
7
If thou withdraw thy Light, my light will shine,
If thine appeare, how poore a light is mine!
My light is darkness, if compar'd to thine.
8
Thy Sun-beames are too strong for my weake eye;
If thou but shine, how nothing, Lord, am I!
Ah, who can see thy visage, and not die!
9
If intervening earth should make a night,
My wanton flame would then shine forth too bright;
My earth would ev'n presume t'eclipse thy Light.
10
And if thy Light be shadow'd, and mine fade,
If thine be dark, and my dark light decayd,
I should be cloathed with a double shade.
11
What shall I, doe? O what shall I desire?
What help can my distracted thoughts require,
That thus am wasting twixt a double Fire?
12
In what a streight, in what a streight am I?
Twixt two extreames how my rackt fortunes lie?
See I thy face, or see it not, I die.
13
O let the streame of my Redeemers blood,
That breaths fro' my sick soule, be made a Cloud,
T'interpose these Lights, and be my shroud.
14
Lord, what am I? or what's the light I have?
May it but light my Ashes to their Grave,
And so from thence, to Thee? 'tis all I crave.
15
O make my Light, that all the world may see
Thy Glory by't: If not, It seemes to me
Honour enough, to be put out by Thee.
O Light inaccessible, in respect of which my light is utter darknesse; so
reflect upon my weakness, that all the world may behold thy strength: O majesty
incomprehensible, in respect of which my glory is meere shame, so shine upon my
misery that all the world may behold thy glory.
