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HIM, whom the earth, the sea, and sky
Worship, adore, and magnify,
And doth this threefold engine steer,
Mary's pure closet now doth bear:

Whom Sun and Moon, and creatures all,
Serving at times, obey his call,
Pouring from Heaven his sacred grace,
P' th' virgin's bowels hath ta'en place.

Mother most blest by such a dower,
Whose Maker, Lord of highest power,
Who this wide world in hand contains,
In thy womb's ark himself restrains.

Blest by a message from Heaven brought,
Fertile with Holy Ghost full fraught,
Of nations the desired King,

Within thy sacred womb doth spring.

Lord, may thy glory still endure,
Who born wast of a virgin pure;
The Father's and the Sp'rit's love,
Which endless worlds may not remove.

III.

JESU, our prayers with mildness hear,
Who art the crown which virgins decks,
Whom a pure maid did breed and bear,
The sole example of her sex.

Thou feeding there where lilies spring,
While round about the virgins dance,
Thy spouse dost to glory bring,

And them with high rewards advance.

The virgins follow in thy ways

Whithersoever thou dost go,

They trace thy steps with songs of praise,
And in sweet hymns thy glory show.

Cause thy protecting grace, we pray,
In all our senses to abound,
Keeping from them all harms which may
Our souls with foul corruption wound.

Praise, honour, strength, and glory great,
To God the Father, and the Son,
And to the holy Paraclete

While time lasts, and when time is done.

IV.

BENIGN Creator of the stars,

Eternal Light of faithful eyes, Christ, whose redemption none debars, Do not our humble prayers despise.

Who for the state of mankind griev'd,

That it by death destroy'd should be, Hast the diseased world reliev'd,

And given the guilty remedy.

When th' evening of the world drew near, Thou as a bridegroom deign'st to come Out of the wedding chamber dear,

Thy virgin mother's purest womb:

To the strong force of whose high reign
All knees are bow'd with gesture low,
Creatures which Heav'n on Earth contain
With rev'rence their subjection show.

O holy Lord! we thee desire,
Whom we expect to judge all faults,
Preserve us, as the times require,
From our deceitful foes' assaults.

Praise, honour, strength, and glory great,
To God the Father, and the Son,
And to the holy Paraclete,

Whilst time lasts, and when time is done.

HYMN FOR SUNDAY.

O BLEST Creator of the light,
Who bringing forth the light of days,
With the first work of splendour bright
The world didst to beginning raise;

Who morn with evening join'd in one
Commandedst should be call'd the day:
The fou! confusion now is gone;

O hear us when with tears we pray :

Lest that the mind, with fears full fraught,
Should lose best life's eternal gains,
While it hath no immortal thought,
But is enwrapt in sinful chains.

O may it beat the inmost sky,
And the reward of life possess !
May we from hurtful actions fly,
And purge away all wickedness!
Dear Father, grant what we entreat,
And only Son, who like pow'r hast,
Together with the Paraclete,

Reigning whilst times and ages last.

HYMN FOR MONDAY.

GREAT Maker of the Heavens wide,
Who, lest things mix'd should all confound,
The floods and waters didst divide,

And didst appoint the Heav'ns their bound; Ordering where heav'nly things shall stay, Where streams shall run on earthly soil, That waters may the flames allay,

Lest they the globe of Earth should spoil. Sweet Lord, into our minds infuse

The gift of everlasting grace,

That no old faults which we did use
May with new frauds our souls deface.

May our true faith obtain the light,

And such clear beams our hearts possess, That it vain things may banish quite, And that no falsehood it oppress. Dear Father, grant what we entreat, &c,

That sin no soul opprest may thrall,

That none be lifted high with pride, That minds cast downwards do not fall, Nor raised up may backward slide. Dear Father, &c.

HYMN FOR TUESDAY.

GREAT Maker of man's earthly realm, Who didst the ground from waters take Which did the troubled land o'erwhelm,

And it immovable didst make;

That there young plants might fitly spring,
While it with golden flow'rs attir'd
Might forth ripe fruit in plenty bring,
And yield sweet fruit by all desir'd:

With fragrant greenness of thy grace,
Our blasted souls of wounds release,
That tears foul sins away may chase,
And in the mind bad motions cease,

May it obey thy heav'nly voice,

And never drawing near to ill, T' abound in goodness may rejoice, And may no mortal sin fulfil. Dear Father, &c.

HYMN FOR FRIDAY. GOD, from whose work mankind did spring, Who all in rule dost only keep Bidding the dry land forth to bring

All kind of beasts which on it creep;

Who hast made subject to man's hand Great bodies of each mighty thing, That, taking life from thy command, They might in order serve their King; From us thy servants, Lord, expel

Those errours which uncleanness breeds, Which either in our manners dwell,

Or mix themselves among our deeds.

Give the rewards of joyful life;

The plenteous gifts of grace increase;
Dissolve the cruel bonds of strife;
Knit fast the happy league of peace.
Dear Father, &c.

HYMN FOR WEDNESDAY.

O HOLY God of heav'nly frame,

Who mak'st the pole's wide centre bright, And paint'st the same with shining flame, Adorning it with beauteous light;

Who framing, on the fourth of days,
The fiery chariot of the Sun,
Appoint'st the Moon her changing rays,
And orbs in which the planets run;

That thou might'st by a certain bound
"Twixt night and day division make;
And that some sure sign might be found
To show when months beginning take;
Men's hearts with lightsome splendour bless,
Wipe from their minds polluting spots,
Dissolve the bond of guiltiness,

Throw down the heaps of sinful blots.
Dear Father, &c.

HYMN FOR THURSDAY.

GOD, whose forces far extend,

Who creatures which from waters spring Back to the flood dost partly send,

And up to th' air dost partly bring;

Some in the waters deeply div'd,

Some playing in the Heav'ns above, That natures from one stock deriv'd May thus to several dwellings move: Upon thy servants grace bestow,

Whose souls thy bloody waters clear, That they no sinful falls may know, Nor heavy grief of death may bear;

HYMN FOR SATURDAY.

O TRINITY! O blessed light!
O Unity, most principal!
The fiery Sun now leaves our sight;
Cause in our hearts thy beams to fall:

Let us with songs of praise divine

At morn and evening thee implore;
And let our glory, bow'd to thine,
Thee glorify for evermore.

To God the Father glory great,
And glory to his only Son,
And to the holy Paraclete,

Both now, and still while ages run.

HYMN UPON THE NATIVITY.

CHRIST, whose redemption all doth free,
Son of the Father, who alone,

Before the world began to be,

Didst spring from him by means unknown;

Thou his clear brightness, thou his light,
Thou everlasting hope of all,
Observe the pray'rs which in thy sight
Thy servants through the world let fall.

O dearest Saviour, bear in mind,
That of our body thou, a child,
Didst whilom take the natural kind,
Born of the Virgin undefil'd.

This much the present day makes known,
Passing the circuit of the year,
That thou from thy high Father's throne
The world's sole safety didst appear.

The highest Heaven, the earth, and seas, And all that is within them found, Because he sent thee us to ease,

With mirthful songs his praise resound.

We also, who redeemed are

With thy pure blood from sinful state, For this thy birth-day will prepare

New hymns this feast to celebrate.

Glory, O Lord, be given to thee,

Whom the unspotted Virgin bore;

And glory to thee, Father, be,

And th' Holy Ghost, for evermore.

HYMN UPON THE INNOCENTS.

HAIL you, sweet babes! that are the flow'rs,
Whom, when you life begin to taste,
The enemy of Christ devours,

As whirlwinds down the roses cast:

First sacrifice to Christ you went,

Of offer'd lambs a tender sort; With palms and crowns, you innocent Before the sacred altar sport.

UPON THE SUNDAYS IN LENT.

HYMN.

O MERCIFUL Creator, hear

Our pray'rs to thee devoutly bent, Which we pour forth with many a tear In this most holy fast of Lent.

Thou mildest searcher of each heart,

Who know'st the weakness of our strength, To us forgiving grace impart,

Since we return to thee at length.

Much have we sinned, to our shame;
But spare us, who our sins confess;
And, for the glory of thy name,

To our sick souls afford redress.

Grant that the flesh may be so pin'd
By means of outward abstinence,
As that the sober watchful mind

May fast from spots of all offence.
Grant this, O blessed Trinity!

Pure Unity, to this incline-
That the effects of fasts may be
A grateful recompense for thine.

Let thine own goodness to thee bend,
That thou our sins may'st put to flight;
Spare us and, as our wishes tend,
O satisfy us with thy sight!

May'st thou our joyful pleasures be,
Who shall be our expected gain;
And let our glory be in thee,
While any ages shall remain.

HYMN FOR WHITSUNDAY.

CREATOR, Holy Ghost, descend;

Visit our minds with thy bright flame; And thy celestial grace extend

To fill the hearts which thou didst frame:

Who Paraclete art said to be,

Gift which the highest God bestows; Fountain of life, fire, charity,

Ointment whence ghostly blessing flows.

Thy sevenfold grace thou down dost send, Of God's right hand thou finger art; Thou, by the Father promised,

Unto our mouths dost speech impart.

In our dull senses kindle light;

Infuse thy love into our hearts; Reforming with perpetual light Th' infirmities of fleshly parts.

Far from our dwelling drive our foe,
And quickly peace unto us bring;

Be thou our guide, before to go,
That we may shun each hurtful thing.

Be pleased to instruct our mind,

To know the Father and the Son; The Spirit, who them both doth bind,

Let us believe while ages run.

To God the Father glory great,

And to the Son, who from the dead Arose, and to the Paraclete, Beyond all time imagined.

ON THE ASCENSION DAY.

O JESU, who our souls dost save,
On whom our love and hopes depend;
God from whom all things being have,
Man when the world drew to an end;

What clemency thee vanquish'd so,
Upon thee our foul crimes to take,
And cruel death to undergo,

That thou from death us free might make?

ON THE

TRANSFIGURATION OF OUR LORD,

THE SIXTH OF AUGUST.

A HYMN.

ALL you that seek Christ, let your sight
Up to the height directed be,
For there you may the sign most bright
Of everlasting glory see.

A radiant light we there behold,

Endless, unbounded, lofty, high; Than Heaven or that rude heap more old Wherein the world confus'd did lie.

The Gentiles this great prince embrace; The Jews obey this king's command, Promis'd to Abraham and his race

A blessing while the world shall stand.

By mouths of prophets free from lyes, Who seal the witness which they bear, His Father bidding testifies

That we should him believe and hear.

Glory, O Lord, be given to thee,

Who hast appear'd upon this day; And glory to the Father be,

And to the Holy Ghost, for aye.

ON THE

FEAST OF ST. MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL.

To thee, O Christ! thy Father's light,
Life, virtue, which our heart inspires,
In presence of thine angels bright,
We sing with voice and with desires:
Ourselves we mutually invite,
To melody with answering choirs.

With reverence we these soldiers praise,
Who near the heavenly throne abide;
And chiefly him whom God doth raise,
His strong celestial host to guide-
Michael, who by his power dismays
And beateth down the Devil's pride.

PETER,

AFTER THE DENIAL OF HIS MASTER.

LIKE to the solitary pelican,

The shady groves, I haunt, and deserts wild,
Amongst wood's burgesses; from sight of man,
From Earth's delight, from mine own self exil'd.
But that remorse, which with my fall began,
Relenteth not, nor is by change turn'd mild;
But rends my soul, and, like a famish'd child,
Renews its cries, though nurse does what she can.
Look how the shrieking bird that courts the night
In rnin'd wall doth lurk, and gloomy place :
Of Sun, of Moon, of stars, I shun the light,
Not knowing where to stay, what to embrace:
How to Heaven's lights should I lift these of mine,
Sith I denied him who made them shine!

ON THE VIRGIN MARY.

THE Woful Mary, 'midst a blubber'd band Of weeping virgins, near unto the tree Where God death suffer'd, man from death to free,

Like to a plaintful nightingale did stand, Which sees her younglings reft before her eyes, And hath nought else to guard them, save her cries:

Love thither had her brought, and misbelief Of these sad news, which charg'd her mind to fears; But now her eyes, more wretched than her tears, Bear witness (ah, too true!) of feared grief: Her doubts made certain did her hopes destroy, Abandoning her soul to black annoy.

Long fixing downcast eyes on earth, at last She longing them did raise (O torturing sight!) To view what they did shun, their sole delight Imbru'd in his own blood, and naked plac'd To sinful eyes; naked, save that black veil Which Heaven him shrouded with, that did bewail.

It was not pity, pain, grief, did possess The mother, but an agony more strange: Cheeks' roses in pale lilies straight did change; Her sp'rits, as if she bled his blood, turn'd less; When she him saw, woe did all words deny, And grief her only suffer'd sigh, O my!

"O my dear Lord and Son!" then she began; "Immortal birth, though of a mortal born; Eternal bounty, which doth Heav'n adorn;

Without a mother, God; a father, man! Ah! what hast thou deserv'd? what hast thou done,

Thus to be treat? Woe's me, my son, my son !

"Who bruis'd thy face, the glory of this all? Who eyes engor'd, load-stars to paradise? Who, as thou wert a trimmed sacrifice,

Did with that cruel crown thy brows impale? Who rais'd thee, whom so oft the angels serv'd, Between those thieves who that foul death deserv'd?

"Was it for this thou bred wast in my womb? Mine arms a cradle serv'd thee to repose? My milk thee fed, as morning dew the rose?

Did I thee keep till this sad time should come, That wretched men should nail thee to a tree, And I a witness of thy pangs must be?

"It is not long, the way's bestrew'd with flow'rs, With shouts to echoing Heav'ns and mountains roll'd, Since, as in triumph, I thee did behold

In royal pomp approach proud Sion's tow'rs: Lo, what a change! Who did thee then embrace, Now at thee shake their heads, inconstant race!

"Eternal Father! from whose piercing eye Hid nought is found that in this all is form'd, Deign to vouchsafe a look unto this round,

This round, the stage of a sad tragedy: Look but if thy dear pledge thou here canst know, On an unhappy tree a shameful show!

"Ah! look if this be he, Almighty King, Before Heav'ns spangled were with stars of gold, Ere world a center had it to uphold,

Whom from eternity thou forth didst bring; With virtue, form, and light who did adorn Sky's radiant globes-see where he hangs a scorn!

"Did all my prayers tend to this? Is this
The promise that celestial herald made
At Nazareth, when full of joy he said,

I happy was, and from thee did me bless?
How am I blest? No, most unhappy I
Of all the mothers underneath the sky.

"How true and of choice oracles the choice Was that blest Hebrew, whose dear eyes in peace Mild death did close ere they saw this disgrace,

When he forespake with more than angel's voice; The Son should (malice sign) be set apart, Then that a sword should pierce the mother's heart!

"But whither dost thou go, life of my soul?
O stay a little till I die with thee!
And do I live thee languishing to see?

And cannot grief frail laws of life controul?
If grief prove weak, come, cruel squadrons, kill
The mother, spare the Son, he knows no ill :

"He knows no ill; those pangs, base men, are To me, and all the world, save him alone; [due But now he doth not hear my bitter moan;

Too late I cry, too late I plaints renew: Pale are his lips, down doth his head decline, Dim turn those eyes once wont so bright to shine.

"The Heavens which in their mansions constant move,

That they may not seem guilty of this crime, Benighted have the golden eye of time. [prove, Ungrateful Earth, canst thou such shame apAnd seem unmov'd, this done upon thy face?" Earth trembled then, and she did hold her peace.

COMPLAINT OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN.

THE mother stood, with grief confounded,
Near the cross; her tears abounded,

While her dear son hanged was,
Through whose soul her sighs forth venting,
Sadly mourning and lamenting,

Sharpest points of swords did pass :

O how sad and how distress'd
Was the mother, ever-bless'd,

Who God's only Son forth brought!
She in grief and woes did languish,
Quaking to behold what anguish
To her noble Son was wrought.

DEDICATION OF A CHURCH.

JERUSALEM, that place divine,

The vision of sweet peace is nam'd,
In Heaven her glorious turrets shine,
Her walls of living stones are fram'd;
While angels guard her on each side,
Fit company for such a bride.

She, deck'd in new attire from Heaven,
Her wedding chamber now descends,
Prepar'd in marriage to be given

To Christ, on whom her joy depends.
Her walls wherewith she is enclos'd,
And streets, are of pure gold compos'd.

The gates, adorn'd with pearls most bright,
The way to hidden glory show;
And thither, by the blessed might
Of faith in Jesus' merits, go
All these who are on Earth distress'd,
Because they have Christ's name profess'd.

These stones the workmen dress and beat,
Before they throughly polish'd are;
Then each is in his proper seat

Establish'd by the builder's care,
In this fair frame to stand for ever,
So join'd that them no force can sever.

To God, who sits in highest seat,
Glory and power given be;
To Father, Son, and Paraclete,

Who reign in equal dignity ; Whose boundless pow'r we still adore, And sing their praise for evermore.

SONNETS AND MADRIGALS.

SONNET.

LET Fortune triumph now, and to sing,
Sith I must fall beneath this load of care;
Let her what most I prize of ev'ry thing
Now wicked trophies in her temple rear.
She who high palmy empires doth not spare,
And tramples in the dust the proudest king;
Let her vaunt how my bliss she did impair,
To what low ebb she now my flow doth bring:
Let her count how (a new Ixion) me
She in her wheel did turn; how high or low
I never stood, but more to tortur'd be.
Weep soul, weep plaintful soul, thy sorrows know;
Weep, of thy tears till a black river swell,
Which may Cocytus be to this thy Hell.

SONNET.

O NIGHT, clear night, O dark and gloomy day!
O woeful waking! O soul-pleasing sleep!
O sweet conceits which in my brains did creep!
Yet sour conceits which went so soon away.
A sleep I had more than poor words can say;
For, clos'd in arms, methought I did thee keep,
A sorry wretch plung'd in misfortunes deep.
Am I not wak'd, when light doth lyes bewray?
O that that night had ever still been black!
O that that day had never yet begun!
And you, mine eyes, would ye no time saw sun!
To have your sun in such a zodiac:
Lo, what is good of life is but a dream,
When sorrow is a never ebbing stream.

SONNET.

So grievous is my pain, so painful life,
That oft I find me in the arms of death;
But, breath half gone, that tyrant called Death,
Who others kills, restoreth me to life:
For while I think how woe shall end with life,
And that I quiet peace shall 'joy by death,
That thought ev'n doth o'erpow'r the pains of death,
And call me home again to loathed life:
Thus doth mine evil transcend both life and death,
While no death is so bad as is my life,
Nor no life such which doth not end by death,
And Protean changes turn my death and life:
O happy those who in their birth find death,
Sith but to languish Heaven affordeth life.

SONNET.

I CURSE the night, yet do from day me hide,
The Pandionian birds I tire with moans;
The echoes even are wearied with my groans,
Since absence did me from my bliss divide.

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