To speak thus was to speak, say I,
Not to his ear, but to his eye.

MATTHEW XXVII.

And He answered them nothing.
MIGHTY Nothing! unto thee,
Nothing, we owe all things that be.

God spake once when He all things made,

He saved all when He Nothing said.

The world was made of Nothing then ;

"Tis made by Nothing now again.

To our Lord, upon the Water made Wine.
HOU water turn'st to wine, fair friend of life

Thy foe, to cross the sweet arts of Thy reign Distils from thence the tears of wrath and strife And so turns wine to water back again.

MATTHEW XXII.

Neither durst any Man from that day ask Him

M

more Questions.

IDST all the dark and knotty snares,
Black wit or malice can or dares,
Thy glorious wisdom breaks the nets,

And treads with uncontrolled steps.
Thy quell'd foes are not only now
Thy triumphs, but Thy trophies too:
They, both at once Thy conquests be,
And Thy conquest's memory.
Stony amazement makes them stand

any

Waiting on Thy victorious hand,
Like statues fixed to the fame

when they

Of Thy renown, and their own shame :
As if they only meant to breathe,
To be the life of their own death.
"Twas time to hold their peace
Had ne'er another word to say:
Yet is their silence unto Thee,
The full sound of Thy victory:
Their silence speaks aloud, and is
Thy well pronounced panegyris.
While they speak nothing, they speak all
Their share in Thy memorial.

While they speak nothing, they proclaim
Thee with the shrillest trump of fame.
To hold their peace is all the ways

These wretches have to speak Thy praise.

Upon our Saviour's Tomb, wherein never man was laid. OW life and death in Thee

H

Agree!

Thou hadst a virgin womb

A Joseph did betroth

And tomb.

Them both.

It is better to go into Heaven with one Eye, &c. NE Eye? a thousand rather, and a thousand more, To fix those full-faced glories. O, he's poor eyes that has but Argus' store; Yet, if thou❜lt fill one poor eye with Thy Heaven and

Of

Thee,

O grant, sweet Goodness, that one eye may be

Upon the dumb Devil cast out, and the slanderous Jews put to silence.

WO devils at one blow Thou hast laid flat, A speaking devil this, a dumb one that; Was't Thy full victory's fairer increase That th' one spake, or that th' other held his peace?

LUKE X.

And a certain Priest coming that way, looked on him,

W

and passed by.

HY dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that passest by,

Handling and turning them with an

unwounded eye?

The calm that cools thine eye does shipwreck mine, for O, Unmoved to see one wretched is to make him so!

LUKE XI.

Blessed be the Paps which Thou hast sucked.

UPPOSE He had been tabled at thy teats,
Thy hunger feels not what He eats:

He'll have His teat ere long, a bloody one,—

The mother then must suck the Son.

To Pontius washing his blood-stained Hands.
S murder no sin? or a sin so cheap,

That thou need'st heap

A rape upon't? till thy adult'rous touch
Taught her these sullied cheeks, this blubber'd face.
She was a nymph, the meadows knew none such,
Of honest parentage, of unstain'd race,

The daughter of a fair and well-famed fountain,
As ever silver-tipp'd the side of shady mountain.
See how she
weeps, and weeps,

that she appears

Nothing but tears;

Each drop's a tear that weeps for her own waste.
Hark, how at every touch she does complain her!
Hark, how she bids her frighted drops make haste,
And with sad murmurs chides the hands that stain her!
Leave, leave for shame, or else, good judge, decree,
What water shall wash this, when this hath washed thee.

MATTHEW XXIII.

Ye build the Sepulchres of the Prophets.
HOU trimm'st a Prophet's tomb, and dost
bequeath

The life thou took'st from him unto his death.

Vain man! the stones that on his tomb do lie
Keep but the score of them that made him die.

Upon the Infant Martyrs.

O see both blended in one flood,

The mothers' milk, the children's blood,

Makes me doubt if Heaven will gather

Roses hence, or lilies rather.

JOHN XVI.

Verily I say unto you, Ye shall weep

and lame

ELCOME, my grief, my joy; how dear's
To me my legacy of tears!

I'll weep, and weep, and will therefore

Weep, 'cause I can weep no more.

Thou, Thou, dear Lord, even Thou alone,
Giv'st joy, even when Thou givest none.

JOHN XV.

Upon our Lord's last comfortable Discourse with H

Disciples.

ALL Hybla's honey, all that sweetness can, Flows in thy song, O fair, O dying swan! Yet is the joy I take in't small or none; It is too sweet to be a long-lived one.

LUKE XVI.

Dives asking a Drop.

DROP, one drop, how sweetly one fair drop Would tremble on my pearl-tipp'd finger's top My wealth is gone, O, go it where it will, Spare this one jewel, I'll be Dives still!

MARK XII.

Give to Cæsar

And to God

LL we have is God's, and yet
Cæsar challenges a debt;

Nor hath God a thinner share,

Whatever Cæsar's payments are;