Welcome, deare feast of Lent: who loves not thee,
He loves not Temperance, or Authoritie,
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It cannot be. Where is that mightie joy,
Which just now took up all my heart?
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King of glorie, King of peace,
With the one make warre to cease;
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Away despair; my gracious Lord doth heare,
Though windes and waves assault my keel,
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False glozing pleasures, casks of happinesse,
Foolish night-fires, women's and children's wishes,
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If as a flowre doth spread and die,
Thou wouldst extend me to some good,
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Thou, whom the former precepts have
Sprinkled and taught, how to behave
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Welcome sweet and sacred cheer,
Welcome deare;
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Lord, how I am all ague, when I seek
What I have treasured in my memorie!
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Oh glorious spirits, who after all your bands
See the smooth face of God, without a frown
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Lord, with what bountie and rare clemencie
Hast thou redeem'd us from the grave!
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Poore silly soul, whose hope and head lies low;
Whose flat delights on earth do creep and grow:
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Almightie Lord, who from thy glorious throne
Seest and rulest all things ev'n as one:
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Oh, what a thing is man! how farre from power,
From setled peace and rest!
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My stock lies dead, and no increase
Doth my dull husbandrie improve:
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As he that sees a dark and shadie grove,
Stayes not, but looks beyond it on the skie;
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I saw the Vertues sitting hand in hand
In sev'rall ranks upon an azure throne,
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Deare friend, sit down, the tale is long and sad:
And in my faintings I presume your love
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O do not use me
After my sinnes! look not on my desert,
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Lord, with what glorie wast thou serv'd of old,
When Solomon's temple stood and flourished!
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Joy, I did lock thee up: but some bad man
Hath let thee out again:
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Busie enquiring heart, what wouldst thou know?
Why dost thou prie,
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What doth this noise of thoughts within my heart,
As if they h
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Oh Book! infinite sweetnesse! let my heart
Suck ev'ry letter, and a hony gain,
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Come ye hither all, whose taste
Is your waste;
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Poore heart, lament,
For since thy God refuseth still,
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Lord, make me coy and tender to offend:
In friendship, first I think, if that agree,
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If we could see below
The sphere of vertue, and each shining grace,
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Peace, mutt'ring thoughts, and do not grudge to keep
Within the walls of your own breast.
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Sweet were the dayes, when thou didst lodge with Lot,
Struggle with Jacob, sit with Gideon,
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