Fons Lachrymarum or a fountain of tears: From whence doth flow Englands Complaint, Jeremiahs Lamentations paraphras'd with Divine Meditations and an elegy Upon that Son of Valor Sir Charles Lucas. Written by John Quarles |
 |
 |
|
|
|
Pulsanti aperietur.
|
 | Fons Lachrymarum |  |
Pulsanti aperietur.
Knock, and it shall be open'd; here's an artRequires the labors of a studious heart:
It is an easie action, some suppose,
Because it commonly consists of blows.
Here's a mysterious knock, 'tis not the hand
Of flesh and blood can knock, or tongue command
The gates to move; 'tis not Saint Peters keyes
Can turn the lock, except the Landlord please.
Heaven's a well-order'd family, whose gate
Opens not soon to them that knock too late:
But those, whose early labors shall implore
To have admittance at that sacred door,
Must well instruct their hearts, and have a care,
First learning how to knock, and after, where.
How happy's he, that really can say,
Go take thy rest (my Soul) th'ast knock'd to day.
He's happy, that can speak such words as these,
Open the door (my Soul) thou hast the keyes.
How happy's he, that by a faithful knock
Can make the yeelding Gates of Heav'n unlock?
115
Is mercy, That lets in and out the store.
Faith is the golden key, which gives us all
A speedy entrance to the spacious Hall:
But we must open (or else not come there)
The gate of Mercy with the key of Pray'r:
Go then, my Soul, into some private place,
Unlock thy heart, and when unlock'd, abase
Thy self before the Throne of Heav'n, and fly
Unto the Temple of Divinity.
Go knock thy heart out; if that will not do,
Say, Heaven's grown deaf, or else thy heart's not true.
Cast off the thred-bare garments of thy sin,
Thy pray'rs will melt the gates, and let thee in:
The Governor of Heav'n will not refuse
To give an audience to such welcome news;
Nor can he be ungrateful, or neglect
To crown thy labors with a true respect:
Then tune thy heart, and teach it to express
Full Diapasons of true thankfulness:
And grant (dear God) when my poor Soul shall knock,
That my unworthy key may fit thy lock.
| Fons Lachrymarum | |