61. TO G.o.d.

If anything delight me for to print My book, 'tis this: that Thou, my G.o.d, art in't.

62. G.o.d AND THE KING.

How am I bound to Two! G.o.d, who doth give The mind; the king, the means whereby I live.

63. G.o.d'S MIRTH: MAN'S MOURNING.

Where G.o.d is merry, there write down thy fears: What He with laughter speaks, hear thou with tears.

64. HONOURS ARE HINDRANCES.

Give me honours! what are these, But the pleasing hindrances?

Stiles, and stops, and stays that come In the way 'twixt me and home; Clear the walk, and then shall I To my heaven less run than fly.

65. THE PARASCEVE, OR PREPARATION.

To a love-feast we both invited are: The figur'd damask, or pure diaper, Over the golden altar now is spread, With bread, and wine, and vessels furnished; The sacred towel and the holy ewer Are ready by, to make the guests all pure: Let's go, my Alma; yet, ere we receive, Fit, fit it is we have our parasceve.

Who to that sweet bread unprepar'd doth come, Better be starv'd, than but to taste one crumb.

_Parasceve_, preparation.

66. TO G.o.d.

G.o.d gives not only corn for need, But likewise sup'rabundant seed; Bread for our service, bread for show, Meat for our meals, and fragments too: He gives not poorly, taking some Between the finger and the thumb; But for our glut and for our store, Fine flour press'd down, and running o'er.

67. A WILL TO BE WORKING.

Although we cannot turn the fervent fit Of sin, we must strive 'gainst the stream of it; And howsoe'er we have the conquest miss'd, 'Tis for our glory that we did resist.

68. CHRIST'S PART.

Christ, He requires still, wheresoe'er He comes To feed or lodge, to have the best of rooms: Give Him the choice; grant Him the n.o.bler part Of all the house: the best of all's the heart.

69. RICHES AND POVERTY.

G.o.d could have made all rich, or all men poor; But why He did not, let me tell wherefore: Had all been rich, where then had patience been?

Had all been poor, who had His bounty seen?

70. SOBRIETY IN SEARCH.

To seek of G.o.d more than we well can find, Argues a strong distemper of the mind.

71. ALMS.

Give, if thou canst, an alms; if not, afford, Instead of that, a sweet and gentle word: _G.o.d crowns our goodness wheresoe'er He sees, On our part, wanting all abilities_.

72. TO HIS CONSCIENCE.

Can I not sin, but thou wilt be My private protonotary?

Can I not woo thee to pa.s.s by A short and sweet iniquity?

I'll cast a mist and cloud upon My delicate transgression So utter dark as that no eye Shall see the hugg'd impiety; Gifts blind the wise, and bribes do please And wind all other witnesses; And wilt not thou with gold be ti'd To lay thy pen and ink aside?

That in the mirk and tongueless night Wanton I may, and thou not write?

It will not be. And, therefore, now, For times to come I'll make this vow, From aberrations to live free; So I'll not fear the Judge or thee.

_Protonotary_, once the t.i.tle of the chief clerk in the Courts of Common Pleas and King's Bench.

73. TO HIS SAVIOUR.

Lord, I confess, that Thou alone art able To purify this my Augean stable: Be the seas water, and the land all soap, Yet if Thy blood not wash me, there's no hope.

74. TO G.o.d.

G.o.d is all sufferance here; here He doth show No arrow nockt, only a stringless bow: His arrows fly, and all His stones are hurl'd Against the wicked in another world.

_Nockt_, placed ready for shooting.

75. HIS DREAM.

I dreamt, last night, Thou didst transfuse Oil from Thy jar into my cruse; And pouring still Thy wealthy store, The vessel full did then run o'er; Methought I did Thy bounty chide To see the waste; but 'twas replied By Thee, dear G.o.d, G.o.d gives man seed Ofttimes for waste, as for his need.

Then I could say that house is bare That has not bread and some to spare.

76. G.o.d'S BOUNTY.

G.o.d's bounty, that ebbs less and less As men do wane in thankfulness.

77. TO HIS SWEET SAVIOUR.

Night hath no wings to him that cannot sleep, And time seems then not for to fly, but creep; Slowly her chariot drives, as if that she Had broke her wheel, or crack'd her axletree.

Just so it is with me, who, list'ning, pray The winds to blow the tedious night away, That I might see the cheerful, peeping day.

Sick is my heart! O Saviour! do Thou please To make my bed soft in my sicknesses: Lighten my candle, so that I beneath Sleep not for ever in the vaults of death; Let me Thy voice betimes i' th' morning hear: Call, and I'll come; say Thou the when, and where.

Draw me but first, and after Thee I'll run And make no one stop till my race be done.