Whose drops of blood paid the full price And fit for Paradise. Thou art a day of mirth: And where the week-days trail on ground, Leaping with thee from seven to seven, Employment. He that is weary, let him sit: And trade in courtesies and wit, To cold complexions needing it. Man is no star, but a quick coal Who blows it not, nor doth control Lets his own ashes choke his soul. When th' elements did for place contest And by the others is opprest. Life is a business, not good cheer; The sun still shineth there or here, Watch an advantage to appear. Oh, that I were an orange tree, VOL. III. "Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band." But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they And wither'd in my hand. H 85 My hand was next to them, and then my heart; Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, Yet sugaring the suspicion. Farewell, dear flowers; sweetly your time ye spent, Fit, while ye liv'd, for smell or ornament, And after death for cures. I follow straight, without complaints or grief; Prayer. Of what an easy quick access, If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made: Thou canst no more not hear, than Thou canst die. Of what supreme almighty power Is Thy great arm, which spans the east and west, By it do all things live their measur'd hour: Of what unmeasurable love Art Thou possess'd, who when Thou couldst not die, Wert fain to take our flesh and curse, And for our sakes in person sin reprove! That by destroying that which tied Thy purse, Since then these three wait on Thy throne, Ease, Power, and Love; I value prayer so, Wealth, fame, endowments, virtues, all should go: O sacred Providence, who from end to end Of all the creatures both in sea and land And made him secretary of Thy praise. Beasts fain would sing; birds ditty to their notes; To Thy renown: but all their hands and throats Man is the world's high-priest; he doth present Such as springs use that fall, and winds that blow. He that to praise and laud Thee doth refrain But robs a thousand, who would praise Thee fain; Wherefore, most sacred Spirit, I here present, We all acknowledge both Thy power and love To be exact, transcendent, and divine; Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move, While all things have their will, yet none but Thine. For either Thy command or Thy permission |