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To Pontius [Pilate] Wasbing bis Blood=
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.
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
O these wakeful wounds of Thine!
Are they mouths? or are they eyes?
Be they mouths, or be they eyne,
Each bleeding part some one supplies.
Lo! a mouth, whose full-bloom'd lips
And many a cruel tear discloses.
O thou, that on this foot hast laid
Whatsoe'er thy charges were.
This foot hath got a mouth and lips,
The difference only this appears,
Which thou in pearls didst lend.
Upon Easter Day.
Rise heir of fresh Eternity, a
From thy virgin tomb! b
Rise mighty Man of wonders, and Thy World with Thee O 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,
Throned in Thy grave,
Death will on this condition be content to die.
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,
Grace and Peace, to learn new lays
Where triumphant darkness hovers With a sable wing, that covers Brooding horror. Come, thou Death, Let the damps of thy dull breath Overshadow even the shade,
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,
At the whisper of Thy word
They are starved, and I am fed.