XIV. Sir Nicholas Breton

WHEN the angels all are singing

All of glorie euer springing

In the ground of high heauen’s graces,

Where all vertues haue their places;

Oh that my poore soule were neare them,

With an humble heart to heare them!

Then should faith, in loue’s submission

Ioying but in mercie’s blessing,

Where that sinnes are in remission,

Sing the ioyful soule’s confessing;

Of her comforts high commending

All in glorie neuer ending.

But, ah wretched sinfull creature!

How should the corrupted nature

Of this wicked heart of mine

Thinke vpon that loue diuine,

That doth tune the angels’ voices,

While the hoast of heauen reioyces?

No! the songe of deadly sorrowe

In the night that hath no morrow,

And their paines are neuer ended

That haue heauenly powers offended,

Is more fitting to the merite

Of my foule infected spirit.

Yet while mercie is remoouing

All the sorrowes of the louing,

How can faith be full of blindnesse

To despaire of mercie’s kindnesse;

While the hand of heauen is giuing

Comfort from the euer-liuing?

No, my soule, be no more sorie;

Looke vnto that life of glorie

Which the grace of faith regardeth,

And the teares of loue rewardeth;

Where the soule the comfort getteth,

That the angels’ musique setteth.

There when thou art well conducted,

And by heauenly grace instructed

How the faithfull thoughts to fashion

Of a rauisht louer’s passion,

Sing with sainctes to angels nighest

Halleluiah in the highest.

Gloria in excelsis Deo.