| WITH all the powres my poor Heart hath | |
| Of humble love & loyall Faith, | |
| Thus lowe (my hidden life!) I bow to thee | |
| Whom too much love hath bow'd more low for me. | |
| Down down, proud sense! Discourses dy! | 5 |
| Keep close, my soul's inquiring ey! | |
| Nor touch nor tast must look for more | |
| But each sitt still in his own Dore. | |
| |
| Your ports are all superfluous here, | |
| Save That which lets in faith, the eare. | 10 |
| Faith is my skill. Faith can beleive | |
| As fast as love new lawes can give. | |
| Faith is my force. Faith strength affords | |
| To keep pace with those powrfull words. | |
| And words more sure, more sweet, then they, | 15 |
| Love could not think, truth could not say. | |
| |
| O let thy wretch find that releife | |
| Thou didst afford the faithfull theife. | |
| Plead for me, love! Alleage & show | |
| That faith has farther, here, to goe, | 20 |
| And lesse to lean on. Because than | |
| Though hidd as GOD, wounds writt thee man. | |
| Thomas might touch; None but might see | |
| At least the suffring side of thee; | |
| And that too was thy self which thee did cover, | 25 |
| But here ev'n That 's hid too which hides the other. | |
| |
| Sweet, consider then, that I | |
| Though allow'd nor hand nor eye | |
| To reach at thy lov'd Face; nor can | |
| Tast thee GOD, or touch thee MAN, | 30 |
| Both yet beleive; And wittnesse thee | |
| My LORD too & my GOD, as lowd as He. | |
| |
| Help, lord, my Faith, my Hope increase; | |
| And fill my portion in thy peace. | |
| Give love for life; nor let my dayes | 35 |
| Grow, but in new powres to thy name & praise. | |
| |
| O dear memoriall of that Death | |
| Which lives still, & allowes us breath! | |
| Rich, Royall food! Bountyfull BREAD! | |
| Whose use denyes us to the dead; | 40 |
| Whose vitall gust alone can give | |
| The same leave both to eat & live; | |
| Live ever Bread of loves, & be | |
| My life, my soul, my surer selfe to mee. | |
| |
| O soft self-wounding Pelican! | 45 |
| Whose brest weepes Balm for wounded man. | |
| Ah this way bend thy benign floud | |
| To'a bleeding Heart that gaspes for blood: | |
| That blood, whose least drops soveraign be | |
| To wash my worlds of sins from me. | 50 |
| Come love! Come LORD! & that long day | |
| For which I languish, come away; | |
| When this dry soul those eyes shall see, | |
| And drink the unseal'd sourse of thee, | |
| When Glory's sun faith's shades shall chase, | 55 |
| And for thy veil give me thy FACE. | |
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| A M E N. | |
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