Blest be that hand, that helps by hurting, gives If in my fall my rising be thy will, Lord, I will say, The worse the better still. INMATES. A HOUSE I had (a heart, I mean), so wide, That viewing it I thought I might do well, Such guests as came: I did; But what befell A guest I had (alas! I have her still), By entertaining her, I lost my right To more than all the world hath now in sight. Each day, each hour, almost, she brought forth one, The charge grew great. I, that had lost before For all the charges of their maintenance In dooms-day book: Whoever knew 't would say Which could not choose but much the debt enhance. To ease me first I wish'd her to remove : And begg'd the Court of heaven but in vain No help then, but or I must die or she; For one death I had died already then, And twist them both into a third, which when Her death might be my life; but her to kill So desperate was my case. Whilst I delay'd, My guest still teem'd, my debts still greater grew; The less I had to pay, the more was due. The more I knew, the more I was afraid: At last I learn'd, there was no way but one: That is the Lord of life, by dying can His heart was pierced; out of his side there ran This precious balm I begg'd, for pity's sake, What Grace and Truth do offer liberally. And so she died, I live. But yet, alas! Cleaves fast unto me still, looks through mine eyes, Speaks in my tongue, and museth in my mind, Works with mine hands: her body's left behind, Although her soul be gone. My miseries All flow from hence; from hence my woes arise. I loathe myself, because I leave her not ; Now being dead, that living was my choice; All which for vengeance call with a loud voice, And drown my comforts with their deadly noise. Dead bodies kept unburied quickly stink But mortified Corruption lies unmask'd, To all that understand her. That do none In whom she lives embraced with delight: Then dote they on her, as upon their own, But woe is me! One part of me is dead; The worse part of the better, oft doth win: The scent would choke me, were it not that grace Sometimes vouchsafeth to perfume the place With odours of the Spirit, which do ease me, And counterpoise Corruption. Blessed Spirit, Although eternal torments be my merit, And of myself Transgressions only please me, Challenge thine own. Let not intruders hold O speak the word, and make these inmates flee |