To Pontius [Pilate] Washing his Blood= stained bands. Is 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, See how she weeps, and weeps, that she appears 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. -:0: On the Still Surviving Marks of our Whatever story of their cruelty, Or nail, or thorn, or spear have writ in Thee, Are in another sense Still legible; Sweet is the difference: A wound of Thine; Now, what is better, On the Wounds of our Crucified Lord. O these wakeful wounds of Thine! Be they mouths, or be they eyne, Lo! a mouth, whose full-bloom'd lips O thou, that on this foot hast laid This foot hath got a mouth and lips, The difference only this appears, Which thou in pearls didst lend. :0: Upon Easter Day. Rise heir of fresh Eternity, a From thy virgin tomb! b Rise mighty Man of wonders, and Thy World with Thee a Thy tomb the universal East, C Nature's new womb, Thy tomb, fair Immortality's perfumèd nest. Of all the glories make Noon gay, This is the Morn; This Rock buds forth the fountain of the streams of Day: In Joy's white annals live this hour C When Life was born; No cloud scowl on His radiant lids, no tempest lour. Life, by this Light's nativity, All creatures have; Death only by this Day's just doom is forced to die, a а Death will on this condition be content to die. a Psalm rriii. Happy me! O happy sheep! That points me to these paths of bliss; He expounds the weary wonder Spreads a path clear as the day, Where triumphant darkness hovers And make Darkness' self afraid; There my feet, even there, shall find Way for a resolvèd mind. Still my Shepherd, still my God Thou art with me; still Thy rod, Gives direction, gives defence. At the whisper of Thy word Crown'd abundance spreads my board: They are starved, and I am fed. |