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| WHEN first my reason, dawning like the day, | |
| Disperst the clouds of childish sense away; | |
| God’s image fram’d in that superior tow’r, | |
| Diuinely made mine vnderstanding pow’r | |
| To thinke vpon his greatnesse, and to feare | 5 |
| His darts of thunder, which the mountaines teare. | |
| And when with feeble light my soule began | |
| T’ acknowledge him a higher thing then man, | |
| My next discourse, erected by his grace, | |
| Conceiues him free from bounds of time or place, | 10 |
| And sees the furthest that of him is knowne, | |
| All spring from him, and He depends of none. | |
| The steps which in his various workes are seal’d, | |
| The doctrines in his sacred church reueal’d, | |
| Were all receiu’d as truths into my mind, | 15 |
| Yet durst I breake his lawes—O strangely blind! | |
| My festring wounds are past the launcing cure, | |
| Which terrour giues to thoughts at first impure. | |
| No helpe remaines these vlcers to remoue, | |
| Vnlesse I scorch them with the flames of loue. | 20 |
| Lord, from thy wrath my soule appeales, and flyes | |
| To gracious beames of those indulgent eyes, | |
| Which brought me first from nothing, and sustaine | |
| My life, lest it to nothing turne againe, | |
| Which in thy Sonne’s blood washt my parents’ sinne, | 25 |
| And taught me waies eternall blisse to winne. | |
| The starres which guide my bark with heauenly calls; | |
| My boords in shipwrack after many falls; | |
| In these I trust, and, wing’d with pleasing hope, | |
| Attempt new flight to come to thee, my scope, | 30 |
| Whom I esteeme a thousand times more deare | |
| Than worldly things which faire and sweet appeare. | |
| Rebellious flesh, which thee so oft offends | |
| Presents her teares: alas, a poore amends! | |
| But thou acceptst them. Hence they precious grow | 35 |
| As liuing waters which from Eden flow. | |
| With these I wish my vitall blood may runne, | |
| Ere new eclipses dimme this glorious sunne; | |
| And yeeld my selfe afflicting paines to take | |
| For thee my spouse, and onely for thy sake. | 40 |
| Hell could not fright me with immortall fire, | |
| Were it not arm’d with thy forsaking ire; | |
| Nor should I looke for comfort and delight | |
| In heau’n, if heau’n were shadow’d from thy sight. | |
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