| |
| YE 1 Sacred limbs, | |
| A richer blazon I will lay | |
| On you than first I found: | |
| That like celestial kings, | |
| Ye might with ornaments of joy | 5 |
| Be always crown’d. | |
| A deep vermilion on a red, | |
| On that a scarlet I will lay, | |
| With gold I’ll crown your head, | |
| Which like the Sun shall ray. | 10 |
| With robes of glory and delight | |
| I’ll make you bright. | |
| Mistake me not, I do not mean to bring | |
| New robes, but to display the thing: | |
| Nor paint, nor clothe, nor crown, nor add a ray, | 15 |
| But glorify by taking all away. | |
| |
| The naked things | |
| Are most sublime, and brightest show, | |
| When they alone are seen: | |
| Men’s hands than Angels’ wings | 20 |
| Are truer wealth even here below: | |
| For those but seem. | |
| Their worth they then do best reveal, | |
| When we all metaphors remove, | |
| For metaphors conceal, | 25 |
| And only vapours prove. | |
| They best are blazon’d when we see | |
| The anatomy, | |
| Survey the skin, cut up the flesh, the veins | |
| Unfold: the glory there remains: | 30 |
| The muscles, fibres, arteries, and bones | |
| Are better far than crowns and precious stones. | |
| |
| Shall I not then | |
| Delight in those most sacred treasures | |
| Which my great Father gave, | 35 |
| Far more than other men | |
| Delight in gold? Since these are pleasures | |
| That make us brave! | |
| Far braver than the pearl and gold | |
| That glitter on a lady’s neck! | 40 |
| The rubies we behold, | |
| The diamonds that deck | |
| The hands of queens, compared unto | |
| The hands we view; | |
| The softer lilies and the roses are | 45 |
| Less ornaments to those that wear | |
| The same, than the hands, and lips and eyes | |
| Of those who those false ornaments so prize. | |
| |
| Let verity | |
| Be thy delight; let me esteem | 50 |
| True wealth far more than toys: | |
| Let sacred riches be, | |
| While falser treasures only seem, | |
| My real joys. | |
| For golden chains and bracelets are | 55 |
| But gilded manacles, whereby | |
| Old Satan doth ensnare, | |
| Allure, bewitch the eye. | |
| Thy gifts, O God, alone I’ll prize, | |
| My tongue, my eyes, | 60 |
| My cheeks, my lips, my ears, my hands, my feet; | |
| Their harmony is far more sweet; | |
| Their beauty true. And these in all my ways | |
| Shall themes become and organs of Thy praise. | |
