My God, how endless is Thy love!
Thy gifts are every evening new;
And morning mercies from above
Gently distil the early dew.
Thou spread'st the curtains of the night,
Great Guardian of my sleeping hours;
Thy sovereign word restores the light,
And quickens all my drowsy pow'rs.
I yield my pow'rs to Thy command,
To Thee I consecrate my days;
Perpetual blessings from Thine hand
Demand perpetual songs of praise.
DEAR Jesus, give me patience here,
And faith to see my crown as near,
And almost reached, because 'tis sure,
If I hold fast, and slight the lure.
Give me humility and peace,
Contented thoughts, innoxious ease,
A sweet, revengeless, quiet minde,
And, to my greatest haters, kinde.
Give me, my God! a heart as milde
And plain as when I was a childe.
That when "Thy throne is set" and all
These "conquerors" before it fall,
I may be found, preserved by Thee,
Amongst that chosen company,
Who by no blood-here-overcame
But the blood of the blessed Lamb.
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress,
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God our Father dear;
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is man, His child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face;
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine:
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.
My God, I heard this day
That none doth build a stately habitation
But he that means to dwell therein.
What house more stately hath there been,
Or can be, than is Man? to whose creation
All things are in decay.
For Man is ev'rything,
And more he is a tree, yet bears more fruit ;
A beast, yet is, or should be, more:
Reason and speech we only bring:
Parrots may thank us if they are not mute,
They go upon the score.
Man is all symmetry,
Full of proportions, one limb to another,
And all to all the world besides ;
Each part may call the farthest brother,
For head with foot hath private amity,
And both with moons and tides.
Nothing hath got so far
But Man hath caught and kept it as his prey;
His eyes dismount the highest star;
He is in little all the sphere;
Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they
Find their acquaintance there.
For us the winds do blow,
The earth resteth, heaven moveth, fountains flow;
Nothing we see but means our good,
As our delight or as our treasure;
The whole is either our cupboard of food
Or cabinet of pleasure.
The stars have us to bed,
Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws;
Music and light attend our head;
All things unto our flesh are kind
In their descent and being, to our mind
In their ascent and cause.
Each thing is full of duty :
Waters united are our navigation;
Distinguished, our habitation;
Below, our drink; above, our meat; Both are our cleanliness. Hath one such beauty? Then how are all things neat!
More servants wait on Man
Than he'll take notice of: in every path
He treads down that which doth befriend him When sickness makes him pale and wan. O mighty love! Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him.
Since then, my God, Thou hast
So brave a palace built, O dwell in it,
That it may dwell with Thee at last!
Till then afford us so much wit,
That, as the world serves us, we may serve Thee,
And both Thy servants be.
Now, dear Priest, I pray thee,
for me,
For Goddés love, thou pray
More I pray that thou me myng
In thy mass when thou dost sing;
And yet I pray thee, levé1 brother,
Read this oft, and so let other;
Hide it not in hodymoke,2
Let other mo readé this boke;
The mo therein doth read and learn
The mo to meed it shalé turn;
It is i-madé them to shown
That have no bookés of their own,
And others that beth of mean lore
That woldé fain conné more;
And thou that herein learnest most
Thanke trierné the Holy Ghost,
That giveth wit to eaché mon
To do the godé that he con,
And by his travail and his deed
Giveth him Heaven to his meed.
The meed and the joy of Heaven light
God us granté for his might.
"Tis but vanity and folly
On the world to settle wholly.
All the joys of all this life
Are but toys, annoys, and strife.
O God, only wise and stable,
To establish me in Thee,
Give me, Thou that art all-able,
Wisdom with true constancy.
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