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| THE MEEKE 1 and gentle pledge of mortall peace, | |
| Christ Jesus had receiued the Paschall Lambe; | |
| His holy trayne, vnto their ioyes encrease, | |
| Had reapt the fruites, and tasted of the same: | |
| The grace was sayd, the night approached on, | 5 |
| The fatall night, the night of care and moane: | |
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| When as kind Christ with his disciples went | |
| Vnto the farme-house of Gethsemane; | |
| And feeling heapes of sorrow and lament | |
| Afflict his heart like to the troubled sea, | 10 |
| Forth wends he with three followers for to pray; | |
| The rest he wild them there awhile to stay. | |
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| Along he walkes, and still his woe encreaseth, | |
| Whiles Peter weepes to see his Master sory; | |
| Yet matchlesse Christ his sorrow nere surceaseth; | 15 |
| So feruent griefe engirts the King of Glory: | |
| The sonnes of Zebede with teares bewaile him, | |
| Yet more and more his moanes doe still assaile him. | |
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| Oh reuerent browes with agony perplexed, | |
| Loe bloud and gastly sweate together mixed; | 20 |
| The heart with horrour, care, and griefe is vexed; | |
| The flesh is frayle, the eyes with feare is fixed: | |
| O rent my soule in thought of his distresse, | |
| Who dain’d these griefes thy dangers to redresse. | |
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| But when he felt no measure of his moane, | 25 |
| “My soule,” saith he, “is heauy vnto death; | |
| Then stay my friends, for I will walk alone; | |
| But watch and pray, whiles you inioy your breath.” | |
| So foorth he went, and flat vpon his face | |
| With pittious plaints implor’d his Father’s grace. | 30 |
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| And thus he prayed: “O Father, God of light, | |
| If it may be, let this vnseasoned cup | |
| Of sorrow passe, that doth my soule affright: | |
| For why? in griefe my heart is swallowed vp: | |
| Yet not my will, but euen thy will be done, | 35 |
| Through whom by me this worke was first begun.” | |
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| Long lay he feeding on his wofull languish, | |
| And in his cryes redoubled oft the same: | |
| At last, forgetting of his baleful anguish, | |
| He rose, and straight to his disciples came; | 40 |
| Who, through their cares and pittious teares there wept, | |
| Without suspect of harmes securely slept. | |
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| But he, the carefull Shepheard of his flocke, | |
| Seeing the day of daungers neere at hand, | |
| The foe of man prepar’d his sheep to yoake, | 45 |
| With tender care their mischiefs did withstand: | |
| And waking them, he sayd vpon that stowre: | |
| “What! can you not keep watch with me one houre? | |
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| O watch and pray; temptations are too nye; | |
| The spirit willes, and yet the flesh saies, nay.” | 50 |
| With that the teares of pitty foorth did flye: | |
| O words and tears which mercy did bewray! | |
| And now the second charge approacheth on, | |
| And, pensiue, Christ alone to pray is gone. | |
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| As sturdy trees with murmuring noyse lament | 55 |
| The northerne windes outragious blasts that’s gone; | |
| As flowers doe waile when sommer daies are spent, | |
| To see theyr pride by nipping frostes vndone; | |
| As day doth lowre, depriu’d of sunne’s delight, | |
| And night complaines, when moone reflects no light; | 60 |
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| As he laments who neuer hopes for grace; | |
| As lookes the man that loathes his eyes haue sight; | |
| As sighes the wofulsts braunch of mortall race, | |
| Compare their paines, their hope, their small delight; | |
| Yea, thinke more woes than we haue wayes to wring, | 65 |
| And thinke by them what cares did Jesus sting. | |
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| His browes, the tables where our peace is written, | |
| With purple bloud and amber sweate were stain’d; | |
| His heauy lookes disclosed the heart was bitten; | |
| His weeping eyes his wofull state complain’d; | 70 |
| His folded armes, his reuerent knees that bended, | |
| His hydious harmes and endlesse care intended. | |
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| Here stands dispaire, that shold haue swallowed man, | |
| And threatneth him with death for our offences; | |
| Sinne with recountlesse shapes afflictes him, than | 75 |
| Hell shewes the horrour, Sathan his pretences: | |
| Meanwhile our Lord, that neuer thought on ill, | |
| Endurde those threatning plagues to saue vs still. | |
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| O were each thought transformed to a pen; | |
| And euery pen of power to write an age; | 80 |
| And euery age could take his forme agen; | |
| And euery forme did serue but for a page; | |
| All would not serue—then sigh, and say thou this,— | |
| Quid retribuam Domino pro omnibus beneficiis? | |
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| The hostes of heauen were moued with his moane, | 85 |
| Whilst he with teares his Father’s grace implores; | |
| And euery period was a bitter groane— | |
| Euen thus the Sonne of God his Lord adores: | |
| “Father, if thou wilt now remooue from me | |
| This cup: if not, thy will fulfilled be.” | 90 |
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| Heerewith th’ imperiall gates of heauen began | |
| To open wide, and from the brightsome throane | |
| Of Him who ruled the world, and fashion’d man, | |
| An angell bright with wauing wings is gone, | |
| And there alights, where as the God of light | 95 |
| Lay quite dismayed, and rob’d of all delight. | |
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| As seamen smiles when after stormy blasts | |
| The radiant sunne commaunds the warring windes, | |
| And trimmes his tackles, and repayres his masts, | |
| And mends each leake that he by searching findes; | 100 |
| So fares distressed Christ, when he did view | |
| The lip of heauen, his onely sorrow’s dew. | |
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| He gathered his distempered sprites in one, | |
| Whilst that the angels whispered in his eare | |
| His Father’s will: then lifts he vp anonn | 105 |
| His reuerend head, and ’gan his eyes to cleare; | |
| And foorth he walkes, and at the becke againe | |
| The angell parts, and hasteth thence amaine. | |
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| Arriued there where his disciples lay, | |
| He found them sleeping through their cares forepast, | 110 |
| And thus bespake: “Why sleep you? rise and pray, | |
| For why? temptations doe approach vs fast.” | |
| His pensiue traine were whist, and could not tell | |
| How to excuse the slouth in them did dwell. | |
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| Againe from them vnto his prayer he goes, | 115 |
| Loosing the fountaines of his eyes at large; | |
| His restles limbes vpon the earth he throwes, | |
| And thus with sighes his prayers he doth discharge: | |
| “O Father, looke, looke, Father, on my sheepe, | |
| That thou hast lent thy pensiue Sonne to keep: | 120 |
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| O loue them, Lord; for why? the world disdaines them; | |
| And why? because they are not worldly-minded: | |
| Th’ hard-hearted wolues hereafter oft will paine them; | |
| Oh helpe their wants; Lord, let them not be blinded: | |
| For them I weep, for them I shed my teares; | 125 |
| Father, regard my suite with open eares. | |
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| Let them whose sinnes exceede the sandy seas, | |
| Whose hope is drown’d, whose heart is stain’d with feares, | |
| Euen by my death thy bitter wrath appease; | |
| Father, for them I shed these brinish teares— | 130 |
| O let my weeping wound thine eares diuine, | |
| And mooue compassion for these flockes of mine.” | |
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| Heere ceast his teares and prayers: for why? the houre | |
| Of griefe and death approached neere at hand; | |
| So forth he hastes vpon that helpless stoure, | 135 |
| And found his followers sleeping on the land: | |
| “Sleep hardly,” saith he, “take your ease at will, | |
| The houre is come of sorrow and of ill. | |
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| The Sonne of man already is betrayed | |
| To sinners’ hands: arise, and let vs goe.” | 140 |
| With that, with hearts appal’d and quite dismayed, | |
| They all arose to tend the houre of woe; | |
| Whilst traiterous Judas with his traine appeares, | |
| Armed with staues, with clubs, and warlike speares. | |
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| The cursed out-cast of the twelue betray’d | 145 |
| His heauenly Master by a cursed kisse: | |
| His foes to touch his person were affraide— | |
| Short tale to tell, our Lord supprised is, | |
| And bound with bonds, unto the place is led, | |
| Where all the high priests dwelt vpon that sted. | 150 |
