To them the heavens' illimitable height

(Not this round heaven, which we from hence behold,

Adorn'd with thoufand lamps of burning light,
And with ten thousand gems of fhining gold)
He gave as their inheritance to hold,
That they might ferve him in eternal blifs,
And be partakers of those joys of his.

There they in their trinal triplicities
About him wait, and on his will depend,
Either with nimble wings to cut the skies,
When he them on his meffages doth fend,
Or on his own drad prefence to attend,
Where they behold the glory of his light,
And caroll hymns of love both day and night."

Both day and night is unto them all one,
For he his beams doth unto them extend,
That darkness there appeareth never none;
Ne hath their day, ne hath their bliss, an end,
But there their tameless time in pleasure spend;
Ne ever fhould their happiness decay,
Had not they dar'd their Lord to difobay.

But pride, impatient of long refting peace,
Did puff them up with greedy bold ambition,
That they 'gan caft their state how to increase
Above the fortune of their first condition,
And fit in God's own feat without commiffion :
The brighteft angel, even the child of Light,
Drew millions more against their God to fight.

Th' Almighty, feeing their fo bold affay,
Kindled the flame of his confuming ire,
And with his only breath them blew away
From heaven's hight, to which they did afpire,
To decpeft hell, and lake of damned fire,
Where they in darkness and drad horror dwell,
Hating the happy light from which they fell.

So that next off-fpring of the Maker's love,
Next to himself in glorious degree,
Degenering to hate fell from above

Through pride, (for pride and love may ill agree)

And now of fin to all enfample be :
How then can finful flesh it self affure,
Sith pureft angels 1:ll to be impure?

But that eternal fount of love and grace,

Still flowing forth his goodness unto all,

Now feeing left a waste and empty place

In his wide palace, through thofe angels' fall,
Caft to fupply the fame, and to enitall

A new unknowen colonie therein,

Whofe root from earth's bafe ground-work should begin.

Therefore of clay, bafe, vile, and next to nought,
Yet form'd by wondrous fkill, and by his might,
According to an heavenly pattern wrought,
Which he had fashion'd in his wife forefight,
He man did make, and breath'd a living spright

Into his face, most beautiful and fair, Endew'd with wifdom, riches heavenly rare.

Such he him made, that he resembled might
Himself, as mortal thing immortal could;
Him to be lord of every living wight
He made by love out of his own like mould,
In whom he might his mighty self behold;
For Love doth love the thing belov'd to fee,
That like it felf in lovely fhape may be.

But man, forgetful of his maker's grace
No lefs than angels, whom he did enfue,
Fell from the hope of promis'd heavenly place,
Into the mouth of Death, to finners due,
And all his off-fpring into thraldom threw,
Where they for ever fhould in bonds remain
Of never-dead yet ever-dying pain.

Till that great Lord of Love, which him at first

Made of meer love, and after liked well,
Seeing him lie like creature long accurst
In that deep horror of despaired hell,

Him, wretch, in dool would let no longer dwell,

But caft out of that bondage to redeem,
And pay the price, all were his debt extreem.

Out of the bofom of eternal blifs,
In which he reigned with his glorious fire,
He down defcended, like a most demifs
And abject thrall, in flefh's frail attire,
That he for him might pay fin's deadly hire,
And him reftore unto that happy state
In which he ftood before his hapless fate.

In flesh at firft the guilt committed was,
Therefore in fleth it must be fatisfide;
Nor fpirit, nor angel, though they man fur-
pafs,

Could make amends to God for man's mif

And that mofl bleffed body, which was born
Without all blemish or reproachful blame,
He freely gave to be both rent and torn
Of cruel hands, who with defpightful shame
Reviling him, that them moft vile became,
At length him nayled on a gallow-tree,
And flew the Juft by most unjust decrec.

O huge and most unspeakable impreffion
Of Love's deep wound, that pierft the piteous
heart

Of that dear Lord with fo entire affection,
And fharply launcing every inner part,
Dolours of death into his foul did dart,
Doing him die that never it deferved,
To free his foes, that from his heaft bad
fwerved!

What heart can feel leaft touch of fo fore launch, Or thought can think the depth of fo dear wound?

Whofe bleeding fource their streams yet never ftanch,

But fill do flow, and freshly still redownd,
To heal the fores of finful fouls unfound,
And cleanfe the guilt of that infected crime
Which was enrooted in all fleshly flinie.

O bleffed Well of Love! O Flowre of Grace!
O glorious Morning-Star! O Lamp of Light!
Moft lively image of thy Father's face,
Eternal King of Glory, Lord of Might,
Meek Lamb of God, before all worlds behight,
How can we thee requite for all this good?
Or what can prize that thy most precious blood?

Yet nought thou ask'st in lieu of all this love,
But love of us, for guerdon of thy pain:
Aye me what can us lefs than that behove?
Had he required life for us again,
Had it been wrong to afk his own with gain?
He gave us life, he it reftored loft;
Then life were leaft, that us fo little coft.

But he our life hath left unto us free,
Free that was thrall, and bleffed that was band,
Ne ought demands but that we loving be,
As he himself hath lov'd us afore-hand,
And bound thereto with an eternal band,
Him first to love that was fo dearely bought,
And next our brethren, to his image wrought.

Him first to love great right and reason is,
Who first to us our life and being gave,
And after, when we fared had amifs,
Us wretches from the fecond death did fave;
And laft, the fool of life, which now we have,
Even he himself, in his dear facrament,
To feed our hungry fouls, unto us lent.

Then next, to love our brethren, that were made
Of that felf mould and that felf Maker's hand
That we, and to the fame again fhall tade,
Where they shall have like heritage of land,
However here on higher steps we ftand,
Which alfo were with felf-fame price redeemed
That we however of us light efteemed.

And were they not, yet fith that loving Lord
Commanded us to love them for his fake,
Even for his fake, and for his facred word,
Which in his last bequest he to us fpake,
We fhould them love, and with their needs par-
take,

Knowing that whatfoe'er to them we give,
We give to him by whom we all do live.

Such mercy he by his moft holy reed
Unto us taught, and, to approve it true,
Enfampled it by his most righteous deed,
Shewing us mercy (miferable crew!)

That we the like should to the wretches fhew,

And love our brethren, thereby to approve
How much himself that loved us we love.

Then rouze thy felf, O Earth! out of thy foil,
In which thou wallow't like to filthy fwine,
And dooft thy mind in durty pleasures moyl,
Unmindful of that deareft Lord of thine;
Lift up to him thy heavy-clouded eyne,
That thou this fovereign bounty maist behold,
And read, through love, his mercies manifold.
Begin from firft, where he encradled was
In fimple cratch, wrapt in a wad of hay,
Between the toylful oxe and humble afs,
And in what rags, and in how base array,
The glory of our heavenly riches lay,
When him the filly fhepherds came to fee,
Whom greatest princes fought on lowest knee.

From thence read on the story of his life,
His humble carriage, his unfaulty ways,
His cancred foes, his fights, his toyl, his strife,
His pains, his poverty, his fharp affays,
Through which he past his miferable dayes,
Offending none, and doing good to all,
Yet being malic'd both of great and small.

And look at last, how of moft wretched wights
He taken was, betray'd, and falfe accused,
How with moft fcorntul taunts, and fell defpig
He was revil'd, difgrac'd, and foul abufed;
How fcourg'd, how crown'd, how buffeted, how
brused;

And, laftly, how 'twixt robbers crucifide, With bitter wound through hands, through fært and fide!

Then let thy flinty heart, that feels no pain,
Empierced be with pitiful remorie,
And let thy bowels bleed in every vein
At fight of his most facred heavenly corfe,
So torn and mangled with malicious force;
And let thy foul, whofe fins his forrows wrought,
Melt into tears, and grone in grieved thought.

With fenfe whereof, whilst fo thy softned fpirit
Is inly toucht, and humbled with meek zeal
Through meditation of his endless merit,
Lift up thy mind to th' Author of thy weal,
And to his foveraign mercy do appeal;
Learn him to love that loved thee fo dear,
And in thy breaft his blefled image bear.

With all thy heart, with all thy foul and mind,
Thou muft him love, and his beheafts embrace:
All other loves, with which the world dath b
Weak fancies, and stir up affections bafe,
Thou must renownce and utterly displace,
And give thy felf unto him full and free,
That full and freely gave himself for thee.

Then fhalt thou feel thy spirit so poffeft,
And ravisht with devouring great defire
Of his dear felf, that shall thy feeble breaft

7

Inflame with love, and fet thee all on fire
With burning zeal, through every part entire,
That in no earthly thing thou fhalt delight,
But in his fweet and amiable fight.

Thenceforth all world's defire will in thee die,
And all earth's glory, on which men do gaze,
Seem durt and drofs in thy pure fighted eye,
Compar'd to that celeftial beauty's blaze,
Whofe glorious beams all fleshly sense doth daze

With admiration of their paffing light,

Blinding the eyes, and lumining the spright.

Then fhall thy ravisht foul inspired be

With heavenly thoughts, far above humane skill,
And thy bright radient eyes fhall plainly fee
Th' idee of his pure glory present ftill
Before thy face, that all thy fpirits shall fill
With fweet enragement of celeftial love,
Kindled through sight of those fair things above,