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COMPLINE.

The Versicle.
Lord by thy sweet & saving SIGN,

The Responsor.
Defend us from our foes & thine.
y. Thou shalt open.
R. And my mouth.
V. O God make speed.
R. O LORD make hast.
V.

Glory be
R. As it was in

THE HIMN.
He Complin hour comes last, to call

Us to our own Live's funerall.
Ah hartlesse task! yet hope takes head;
And lives in Him that here lyes dead.
Run, Mary, run! Bring hither all the Blest
ARABIA, for thy Royall Phænix'nest;
Pour on thy noblest sweets, Which, when they touch
This sweeter Body, shall indeed be such.
But must thy bed, lord, be a borow'd grave
Who lend'st to all things All the Life they have.
O rather use this Heart, thus farr a fitter STONE,
'Cause, though a hard & cold one, yet it is thine owne.
Amen.

The Antiphona.
O save us then
Mercyfull King of men!

Since thou wouldst needs be thus
A Saviour, & at such à rate, for us;

Save us, o save us, lord.
We now will own no shorter wish, nor name a narrower word.

Thy blood bids us be bold.
Thy Wounds give us fair hold.

Thy Sorrows chide our shame.
Thy Crosse, thy Nature, & thy name

Advance our claim
And cry with one accord
Save them, o save them, lord.

THE

RECOMMENDATION,

TH

Hese Houres, & that which hover's o're my END,
Into thy hands, and hart, lord, I, commend.

Take Both to Thine Account, that I & mine
In that Hour, & in these, may be all thine.

That as I dedicate my devoutest BREATH
To make a kind of Life for my lord's DEATH,

So from his living, & life-giving DEATH,
My dying Life may draw a new, & never fleeting BREATH.

UPON

THE

H. SEPULCHER.

Here where our LORD once lay'd his Head,
Now the grave lyes Buryed.

VEXILLA REGIS,

THE

HYMN

OF THE HOLY

CROSSE.

L

I.
Ook up, languisting Soul! Lo where the fair
BadG of thy faith calls back thy care,

And biddes thee ne're forget

Thy life is one long Debt
Of love to Him, who on this painfull Tree
Paid back the Aesh he took for thee.

II.

Lo, how the streames of life, from that full nest Of loves, thy lord's too liberall brest,

Flow in an amorous Aoud

OF WATER wedding Blood. With these he wash't thy stain, transfer'd thy smart, And took it home to his own heart.

III.

But though great Love, greedy of such sad gain Usurp't the Portion of Thy pain,

And from the nailes & spear

Turn’d the steel point of fear, Their use is chang’d, not lost; and now they move. Not stings of w[ra]th, but wounds of love.

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IV.
Tall Tree of life! thy truth makes good
What was till now ne're understood,

Though the prophetick king

Struck lowd his faithfull string.
It was thy wood he meant should make the T[HR]ONE
For a more then SALOMON.

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Larg throne of love! Royally spred With purple of too Rich a red.

Thy crime is too much duty;

Thy Burthen, too much beauty;
Glorious, or Greivous more? thus to make good
Thy costly excellence with thy King's own Blood.

VI.

Even ballance of both worlds! our world of sin, And that of grace heavn way'd in Him,

Us with our price thou weighed’st;

Our price for us thou payed'st;
Soon as the right-hand scale rejoyc't to prove
How much Death weigh’d more light then love.

VII.
Hail, our alone hope ! let thy fair head shoot
Aloft; and fill the nations with thy noble fruit.

The while our hearts & we

Thus graft our selves on thee;
Grow thou & they. And be thy fair increase
The sinner's pardon & the just man's peace.

Live, o for ever live & reign
The LAMB whom his own love hath slain!
And let thy lost sheep live to'inherit
That KINGDOM which this Crosse did merit.

AMEN.

TO OUR B. LORD

UPON THE CHOISE OF HIS

Sepulcher.

How life & death in Thee

Agree!
Thou hadst a virgin womb,

And tomb.
A JOSEPH did betroth

Them both.

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