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T

UPON

THE BODY OF OUR

BL. LORD,

NAKED

AND

BLOODY.

Hey 'have left thee naked, LORD, O that they had!
This garment too I would they had deny'd.

Thee with thy self they have too richly clad;
Opening the purple wardrobe in thy side.

O never could there be garment too good
For thee to wear, But this, of thine own Blood.

THE

HYMN

OF

SANITE THOMAS

IN

ADORATION OF

THE

BLESSED

SACRAMENT.

W

ADORO

TE

Ith all the powres my poor Heart hath
Of humble love & loyall Faith,

Thus lowe (my hidden life!) I bow to thee

Whom too much love hath bow'd more low for me.
Down down, proud sense! Discourses dy.

Keep close, my soul's inquiring ey!
Nor touch nor tast must look for more
But each sitt still in his own Dore.

Your ports are all superfluous here,
Save That which lets in faith, the eare.
Faith is my skill. Faith can beleive
As fast as love new lawes can give.
Faith is my force. Faith strength affords
To keep pace with those powrfull words.
And words more sure, more sweet, then they
Love could not think, truth could not say.

O let thy wretch find that releife
Thou didst afford the faithfull theife.
Plead for me, love! Alleage & show
That faith has farther, here, to goe
And lesse to lean on. Because than
Though hidd as GOD, wounds writt thee man,
Thomas might touch; None but might see
At least the suffring side of thee;

And that too was thy self which thee did cover,

But here ev'n That's hid too which hides the other.

Sweet, consider then, that I

Though allow'd nor hand nor eye

To reach at thy lov'd Face; nor can
Tast thee GOD, or touch thee MAN
Both yet beleive; And wittnesse thee
My LORD too & my GOD, as lowd as He.

Help, lord, my Hope increase; And fill my portion in thy peace.

Give love for life; nor let my dayes

Grow, but in new powres to thy name & praise.

O dear memoriall of that Death
Which lives still, & allowes us breath!
Rich, Royall food! Bountyfull BREAD!
Whose use denyes us to the dead;
Whose vitall gust alone can give
The same leave both to eat & live;
Live ever Bread of loves, & be

My life, my soul, my surer selfe to mee.

O soft self-wounding Pelican!

Whose brest weepes Balm for wounded man.
Ah this way bend thy benign floud

To'a bleeding Heart that gaspes for blood.
That blood, whose least drops soveraign be
To wash my worlds of sins from me.
Come love! Come LORD! & that long day
For which I languish, come away.
When this dry soul those eyes shall see,
And drink the unseal'd sourse of thee.
When Glory's sun faith's shades shall chase,
And for thy veil give me thy FACE.

AMEN.

LAUDA SION SALVATOREM.

THE HYMN.

FOR

THE BL.

SACRAMENT.

I.

Rihy soul's kind shepheard, thy hart's KING.

Ise, Royall SION! rise & sing

Stretch all thy powres; call if thou can
Harpes of heavn to hands of man.

This soveraign subject sitts above

The best ambition of thy love.

II.

Lo the BREAD of LI[F]E, this day's
Triumphant Text, provokes thy prayse.
The living & life-giving bread,
To the great twelve distributed
When LIFE, himself, at point to dy
Of love, was his own LEGACY.

III.

Come, love! & let us work a song Lowd & pleasant, sweet & long;

Let lippes & Hearts lift high the noise

Of so just & solemn joyes,

Which on his white browes this bright day

Shall hence for ever bear away.

IV.

Lo the new LAW of a new LORD.
With a new Lamb blesses the Board.
The aged Pascha pleads not yeares
But spyes love's dawn, & disappeares.

Types yeild to TRUTHES; shades_shrink away;
And their NIGHT dyes into our Day.

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