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But lest THAT dy too, we are bid.
The Heavn-instructed house of FAITH
That they but lend their Form & face,
Where nature's lawes no leave will give, Bold FAITH takes heart, & dares beleive In different species, name not things, Himself to me my SAVIOUR brings, As meat in That, as Drink in this; But still in Both one CHRIST he is.
The Receiving Mouth here makes
Beares home no lesse, all they no more,
Though in it self this SOVERAIN FEAST Be all the same to every Guest, Yet on the same (life-meaning) Bread The child of Death eates himself Dead. Nor is't love's fault, but sin's dire skill That thus from LiFe can DEATH distill.
When the blest signes thou broke shall see,
Who, howsoe're clad, cannot come
Untouch't her pretious TOTALL hath.
Lo the life-food of ANGELLS then
The children's BREAD; the Bridegroom's WINE.
Lo, the full, finall, SACRI[F]ICE
JESU MASTER, Just & true!
Our Food, & faithfull SHEPHARD too!
As with thy selfe thou feed'st thy SHEEP.
O let that love which thus makes thee
IN MEDITATION OF
THE DAY OF
Ears't thou, my soul, with serious things
O that fire! before whose face
Dies Irae, Dies Ilia
O that trump! whose blast shall r[u]n An even round with the circling Sun. And urge the murmuring graves to bring Pale mankind forth to meet his king.
Horror of nature, hell & Death! When a deep Groan from beneath Shall cry we come, we come & all The caves of night answer one call
O that Book! whose leaves so bright
Ah then, poor soul, what wilt thou say?
But thou giv'st leave (dread Lord) that we
Dear, remember in that Day
Who was the cause thou cams't this way.
Shall all that labour, all that cost
Just mercy then, thy Reckning be
Mercy (my judge) mercy I cry
O let thine own soft bowells pay
Those mercyes which thy MARY found Or who thy crosse confes't & crown'd, Hope tells my heart, the same loves be Still alive; and still for me.
Though both my Prayres & teares combine, Both worthlesse are; For they are mine. But thou thy bounteous self still be; And show thou art, by saving me.
O when thy last Frown shall proclaim The flocks of goates to folds of flame, And all thy lost sheep found shall be, Let come ye blessed then call me.
When the dread ITE shall divide
O hear a suppliant heart; all crush't And crumbled into contrite dust.
My hope, my fear! my Judge, my Freind! Take charge of me, & of my END.