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But ô thy side, thy deep-digg'd side!
No hair so small, but payes his river
But while I speak, whither are run
All the rivers nam'd before?
I counted wrong.
There is but one;
But ô that one is one all ore.
Rain-swoln rivers may rise proud,
Bent all to drown & overflow.
They themselves are drowned too.
This thy blood's deluge, a dire chance Dear LORD to thee, to us is found
A deluge of Deliverance;
A deluge least we should be drown'd.
N'ere wast thou in a sense so sadly true, The WELL of living WATERS, Lord, till now.
THE CROWNE OF THORNS
From the head of our Bl. LORD,
Now'st thou This, Souldier? 'Tis à much-chang'd plant
Thy selfe didst sett.
O who so hard a Husbandman did ever find;
Is not the soile a kind one, which returnes
THE BODY OF OUR
Hey 'have left thee naked, LORD, O that they had!
Thee with thy self they have too richly clad;
O never could there be garment too good
Ith all the powres my poor Heart hath
Thus lowe (my hidden life!) I bow to thee
Whom too much love hath bow'd more low for me. Down down, proud sense! Discourses dy.
Keep close, my soul's inquiring ey!
Nor touch nor tast must look for more
Your ports are all superfluous here,
O let thy wretch find that releife
And lesse to lean on.
Though hidd as GOD, wounds writt thee man,
And that too was thy self which thee did cover,
But here ev'n That's hid too which hides the other.
Sweet, consider then, that I
Though allow'd nor hand nor eye