The merry World did on a day
With his train-bands and mates agree
24 lines
Upon thine Altar burnt? Cannot thy love
Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise
14 lines
Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go
To praise, and on thee Lord, some Ink bestow.
15 lines
A wreathed garland of deserved praise,
Of praise deserved, unto thee I give,
12 lines, 1 comment
O Sacred Providence, who from end to end
Strongly and sweetly movest! shall I write,
152 lines
Lord, Who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
20 lines, 7 comments
Sweetest Saviour, if my soul
Were but worth the having,
38 lines
Alas, poor Death! Where is thy glory?
Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting?
11 lines
How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! ev'n as the flowers in spring;
54 lines
Listen, sweet Dove, unto my song,
And spread thy golden wings in me;
33 lines
Lord, let the Angels praise thy name.
Man is a foolish thing, a foolish thing,
89 lines
O that I could a sinne once see!
We paint the devil foul, yet he
9 lines
Of what an easie quick accesse,
My blessed Lord, art thou! how suddenly
26 lines
Teach me, my God and King,
In all things thee to see,
28 lines
The fleet Astronomer can bore
And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing minde
30 lines
When God at first made man,
Having a glasse of blessings standing by;
22 lines, 1 comment
When my devotions could not pierce
Thy silent
34 lines, 1 comment
Wounded I sing, tormented I indite,
Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest:
13 lines
Heark, how the birds do sing,
And woods do ring.
40 lines
I cannot skill of these thy ways:
Lord thou didst make me, yet you woundest me:
12 lines
Lord how couldst thou so much appease
Thy wrath for sinne, as when mans sight was dimme,
53 lines
O Day most calm, most bright
The fruit of this, the next world's bud,
70 lines
Philosophers have measur'd the mountains,
Fathom'd the depths of the seas, of states, and kings,
19 lines
Thou who condemnest Jewish hate,
For choosing Barabbas a murderer
26 lines
What is this strange and uncouth thing
To make me sigh, and seek, and faint, and die,
40 lines
When first thy sweet and gracious eye
Vouchsaf'd ev'n in the midst of youth and night
25 lines
Whither away, Delight?
Thou cam'st but now; wilt thou so soon depart,
34 lines
With sick and famisht eyes,
With doubling knees and weary bones,
96 lines
Holinesse on the head,
Light and perfections on the breast,
28 lines
Peace, pratler, do not lowre:
Not a fair look, but thou dost call it foul:
26 lines
|