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The next encrystalled light
Submits to Him its beams, And He doth trace the height
Of that fair lamp which flames of beauty streams. He towers those golden bounds
He did to sun bequeath; The higher wandering rounds
Are found his feet beneath : The milky-way comes near,
Heaven's axle seems to bend Above each turning sphere,
That robed in glory, heaven's King may ascend. O Well-spring of this All!
Thy Father's image vive, Word, that from naught did call
What is, doth reason live! The soul's eternal food,
Earth's joy, delight of heaven, All truth, love, beauty, good,
To Thee, to Thee, be praises ever given. What was dismarshalled late,
To this thy noble frame, And last the prime estate
Hath reobtained the same, Is now more perfect seen;
Streams which diverted were (And troubled, stayed unclean)
From their first source by Thee home-turned are. By Thee that blemish old
Of Eden's leprous prince, Which on his race took hold,
And him exile from thence, Now put away is far;
With sword in ireful guise, No cherub more shall bar
Poor man the entrance into paradise.
Now each ethereal gate,
To Him hath opened been ; And glory's King in state
His palace enters in : Now come is this High priest
To the most holy place, Not without blood addressed,
With glory heaven, the earth to crown with grace. Stars which all eyes were late,
And did with wonder burn His name to celebrate,
In flaming tongues their turn; Their orby crystals move
More active than before, And entheate' from above,
Their sovereign Prince laud, glorify, adore. The choirs of happy souls
Waked with that music sweet, Whose descant care controls,
Their Lord in triumph meet:
His trophies do extol,
Greet their great Victor in his capitol.
O sole delight of earth! To Thee all power be given,
God's uncreated birth; Of mankind lover true,
Endurer of his wrong, Who dost the world renew,
Still be Thou our salvation and our song.
From top of Olivet, such notes did rise,
Nephew of Richard Fletcher, bishop of London ; son of Giles Fletcher, LL.D., and brother of Phineas Fletcher, a poet of kindred genius, was born in London about the year 1586, and was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, where his poem of “Christ's Victorie and Triumph” appeared in 1610. Little more is known of him, except that he was settled in the rectory of Alderton, in Suffolk, where, we are told by Fuller, in his quaint manner, his “clownish and low-parted parishioners (having nothing but their shoes high about them) valued not their pastor according to his worth, which disposed him to melancholy and hastened his dissolution.” He died about the year 1623.
THE INTERPOSITION OF JUSTICE.
But Justice had no sooner Mercy seen
Opened the world which all in darkness lay,
Doth heaven's bright face of his rays disarray,
She was a virgin of austere regard,
eye with heaven's, so, and more brightly shined
Into the solid heart, and with her ears
The silence of the thought loud speaking hears,
No riot of affection revel kept
Securely, without tempest; no sad cry
Sending her eyes to heaven swimming in tears,
And hideous clamors ever struck her ears, Wetting the blazing sword that in her hand she bears.
The winged lightning is her Mercury,
But if her cloudy brow but once grow foul,
The flints do melt, the rocks to water roll, And airy mountains shake, and frightened shadows howl.
Famine, and bloodless Care, and bloody War,
w-boned spright, That lanks the cheeks and pales the freshest sight, Unbosoming the cheerful breast of all delight.
Before this cursed throng goes Ignorance,
And round about amazed Horror flies,
And over all, Shame veils his guilty eyes, And underneath Hell's hungry throat still yawning lies.
THE SHAME OF NOT LOVING GOD.
WERE he not wilder than the savage beast,
Prouder than haughty hills, harder than rocks, Colder than fountains from their springs released,
Lighter than air, blinder than senseless stocks,
More changing than the river's curling locks ; If reason would not, sense would soon reprove him, And unto shame, if not to sorrow, move him, To see cold floods, wild beasts, dull stocks, hard stones,
TO WHOM ELSE CAN WE FLY ?”
Should any to himself for safety fly?
to save himself, if anywhere, Were to fly from himself; should he rely
Upon the promise of his wife ? but there
What can be see but that he most may fear,
His strength ? but dust : his pleasure ? cause of pain :
His hope ? false courtier : youth or beauty ? brittle : Entreaty ? fond : repentance ? late and vain :
Just recompense ? the world were all too little :
Thy love ? he hath no title to a tittle : Hell's force ? in vain her furies hell shall gather : His servants, kinsmen, or his children rather ? His child, if good, shall judge; if bad, shall curse his father:
His life ? that brings him to his end and leaves him :
His end ? that leaves him to begin his wo:
His gods of wood ? their feet, alas ! are slow
To go to help, that must be helped to go: