'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth; And giv'st me wa.s.sail bowls to drink, Spiced to the brink.

Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand, That soils my land; And giv'st me for my bushel sown, Twice ten for one.

Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay Her egg each day; Besides my healthful ewes to bear Me twins each year, The while the conduits of my kine Run cream for wine.

All these, and better Thou dost send Me, to this end, That I should render, for my part, A thankful heart; Which, fired with incense, I resign, As wholly Thine; But the acceptance, that must be, My Christ, by Thee.

_Unflead_, lit. unflay'd.

_Purslain_, an herb.

48. TO G.o.d.

Make, make me Thine, my gracious G.o.d, Or with Thy staff, or with Thy rod; And be the blow, too, what it will, Lord, I will kiss it, though it kill: Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me, Yet, in torments, I'll commend Thee; Examine me with fire, and prove me To the full, yet I will love Thee; Nor shall Thou give so deep a wound But I as patient will be found.

49. ANOTHER TO G.o.d.

Lord, do not beat me, Since I do sob and cry, And swoon away to die, Ere Thou dost threat me.

Lord, do not scourge me, If I by lies and oaths Have soil'd myself or clothes, But rather purge me.

50. NONE TRULY HAPPY HERE.

Happy's that man to whom G.o.d gives A stock of goods, whereby he lives Near to the wishes of his heart: No man is blest through every part.

51. TO HIS EVER-LOVING G.o.d.

Can I not come to Thee, my G.o.d, for these So very many meeting hindrances, That slack my pace, but yet not make me stay?

Who slowly goes, rids, in the end, his way.

Clear Thou my paths, or shorten Thou my miles, Remove the bars, or lift me o'er the stiles; Since rough the way is, help me when I call, And take me up; or else prevent the fall.

I ken my home, and it affords some ease To see far off the smoking villages.

Fain would I rest, yet covet not to die For fear of future biting penury: No, no, my G.o.d, Thou know'st my wishes be To leave this life, not loving it, but Thee.

_Rids way_, gets over the ground.

52. ANOTHER.

Thou bid'st me come; I cannot come; for why?

Thou dwell'st aloft, and I want wings to fly.

To mount my soul, she must have pinions given; For 'tis no easy way from earth to heaven.

53. TO DEATH.

Thou bid'st me come away, And I'll no longer stay Than for to shed some tears For faults of former years, And to repent some crimes Done in the present times: And next, to take a bit Of bread, and wine with it: To don my robes of love, Fit for the place above; To gird my loins about With charity throughout; And so to travel hence With feet of innocence: These done, I'll only cry G.o.d mercy, and so die.

54. NEUTRALITY LOATHSOME.

G.o.d will have all, or none; serve Him, or fall Down before Baal, Bel, or Belial: Either be hot or cold: G.o.d doth despise, Abhor, and spew out all neutralities.

55. WELCOME WHAT COMES.

Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among G.o.d's blessings there is no one small.

56. TO HIS ANGRY G.o.d.

Through all the night Thou dost me fright, And hold'st mine eyes from sleeping; And day by day, My cup can say My wine is mix'd with weeping.

Thou dost my bread With ashes knead Each evening and each morrow; Mine eye and ear Do see and hear The coming in of sorrow.

Thy scourge of steel, Ah me! I feel Upon me beating ever: While my sick heart With dismal smart Is disacquainted never.

Long, long, I'm sure, This can't endure, But in short time 'twill please Thee, My gentle G.o.d, To burn the rod, Or strike so as to ease me.

57. PATIENCE: OR, COMFORTS IN CROSSES.

Abundant plagues I late have had, Yet none of these have made me sad: For why? My Saviour with the sense Of suff'ring gives me patience.

58. ETERNITY.

O years! and age! farewell: Behold, I go Where I do know Infinity to dwell.

And these mine eyes shall see All times, how they Are lost i' th' sea Of vast eternity.

Where never moon shall sway The stars; but she And night shall be Drown'd in one endless day.

59. TO HIS SAVIOUR, A CHILD: A PRESENT BY A CHILD.

Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour; And tell Him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known.

When thou hast said so, stick it there Upon His bib or stomacher; And tell Him, for good handsel too, That thou hast brought a whistle new, Made of a clean strait oaten reed, To charm His cries at time of need.

Tell Him, for coral, thou hast none, But if thou hadst, He should have one; But poor thou art, and known to be Even as moneyless as He.

Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss From those mellifluous lips of His; Then never take a second on, To spoil the first impression.

_Handsel_, earnest money.

60. THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.

Let others look for pearl and gold, Tissues, or tabbies manifold: One only lock of that sweet hay Whereon the blessed baby lay, Or one poor swaddling-clout, shall be The richest New-Year's gift to me.

_Tabbies_, shot silks.