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Lord by thy sweet & saving SIGN,
Defend us from our foes & thine.
R. And my mouth.
. O GOD make speed. R. O LORD make hast. V. Glory be
R. As it was in
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
Pour on thy noblest sweets, Which, when they touch
But must thy bed, lord, be a borow'd grave
Who lend'st to all things All the LIFE they have.
O save us then
Mercyfull KING of men!
Since thou wouldst needs be thus
A SAVIOUR, & at such à rate, for us;
We now will own no shorter wish, nor name a narrower word.
Thy Wounds give us fair hold.
Thy Sorrows chide our shame.
Thy Crosse, thy Nature, & thy name
And cry with one accord
Save them, o save them, lord.
Hese Houres, & that which hover's o're my END,
Take Both to Thine Account, that I & mine
That as I dedicate my devoutest BREATH
So from his living, & life-giving DEATH,
My dying LIFE may draw a new, & never fleeting BREATH.
Here where our LORD once lay'd his Head,
OF THE HOLY
Ook up, languisting Soul! Lo where the fair
Thy life is one long Debt
Of love to Him, who on this painfull TREE
Lo, how the streames of life, from that full nest Of loves, thy lord's too liberall brest,
Flow in an amorous floud
Of WATER Wedding BLOOD.
With these he wash't thy stain, transfer'd thy smart, And took it home to his own heart.
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.
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.
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
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
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
Live, o for ever live & reign
The LAMB whom his own love hath slain!
That KINGDOM which this CROSSE did merit.