»»^^^;^i^M^s * v" ^ ; . \ ■*';' ^iififfc "s ■» ¥,, 2f*t^ '^ »M^».S Dtfiaia, New Qnrk LIBRARY, OF LEWIS BINGLEY WYKIT^' A. a. .A.M.. COLUMBIAN COLLEGE. *71. '73 WASHINGTON. D. C. THE GIFT OF MRS. MARY A. WYNNE AND JOHN H. WYNNE CORNELL -98 1922 Cornell University Library PR 3S07.A1 1880 Works in prose and verse. 3 1924 013 185 362 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 31 85362 nidkj^'mi THE ^--r c^l LANSDOWNE NOVELS & TALES. Small crown 870, price 3s. 6cl. each, cloth gilt, with Original lUuatrations, ON THE EDGE OF THE STOEM. By the Author of " Deiiise" CLAEE SAVILE. By MISS LUAED LADY BETTY. By CHEISTABEL COLEEIDGE "VIVIA : A Modem Story. By FLOEENCB WILFOED ITIGEL BAETRAM'S IDEAL. ,„-,: By FLOEENCB WILFOED DAMES OF HIGH ESTATE. By MADAME DE WITI OlfB TTEAEj or. The Three Homes.! . By F. M. p. WOMEU of the LAST DAYS OP OLD FEANCE. By' the Author of "On the Edge of the Storm" HANBDEY MILLS. By CHEISTABEL COLEEIDGE ABTBTE DYUEVOE. By MAEIAN JAMES TALES OLD AND BTEW. DEiriSE. SEVBITTEEH' TO TWEWTY-OITB ; or, Aunt Vonioa. By'M. M.BELL THE STOEY OP SEVBITOAKS. By DE. HOLLAND THE CAEBEIDGES. ' By M. BEAMSTON EVELYK" HOTVAED. By MES. H. B. PAULL HOME, S'VP'EET HOME. By MRS. J. H. EIDDELL JOY APTEE SOEEO"W. By MRS. 3. H. EIDDELL MOETOMLEY'S ESTATE. By MBS. J. H. EIDDELL FEAWK SIWCLAIE'S "WIPE. By MRS. J. H. EIDDELL THE KWIGHT'S EABTSOM. By MES. yALENTINE MAY ABTD HEE FEIEITDS. By B. M. B. AEITM FIELD (GAENSTOIT). By MRS. JEROME MEECIEU FAIE ELSE, DIJKE ULEICH, &c. By the Author of" Deniae- I By the Author of " Bydonie'a Dowry," &o. FREDERICK WAENE & CO., Bedfoed Street, Steato. mmmmmmis] t W^txr^t vi §t^rx^t !f ^rii^^t |tt ytiixs^ 8»it T^^* 1^^^^^^^ THE "ClfANDOS CLASSICS:' THE WORKS OF GEORGE JIERBERT, IN PRO^E AND VERSE. EDITED FROM THE LATEST EDITIONS. LONDON : FREDERICK WARNE AND CO., BEPFORD STREET, STRAND. N ^ ^.^^tt;^/ Jq^noi. I HE Poems of George Herbert were published after his THE Jn\t tx\ Hr. Squrji !|^qbrl By IZAAK WALTON. EORGE HERBERT was bom the third day of April, in the year of our Redemption 1593. The place of his birth was near to the town of Montgomery, and in that castle that did then bear the name of that town and county. That castle was then a place of state and strength, and had been successively happy in the family of the Herberts, who had long possessed it ; and with it a plentiful estate, and hearts as liberal to their poor neighbours : a family that had been blessed with men of remarkable wisdom, and a willingness to serve their country, and indeed, to do good to all mankind ; for which they were eminent. But, alas ! this family did in the late rebellion suffer extremely in their estates ; and the heirs of that castle saw it laid level with that earth that was too good to bury those wretches that were the cause of it. The father of our George was Richard Herbert,* the son of Edward Herbert, Knight, the son of Richard Herbert, Knight, the son of the famous Sir Richard Herbert, of Colebrook, in the county of Monmouth, Banneret, who was the youngest brother of that »■ Of Blakehall, in Montgomery.' 2 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. memorable William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, that lived in the reign of our King Edward IV. His mother was Magdalen Newport, the youngest daughter of Sir Richard, and sister to Sir Francis Newport, of High Arkall, in the county of Salop, Knight, and grandfather of -Francis, Lord Newport, now Comptroller of His Majesty's Household ; a family that for their loyalty have suffered much in their estates, and seen the ruin of that excellent structure where their ancestors have long lived and been memorable for their hospitality. This mother of George Herbert (of whose person, wisdom, and virtue I intend to give a true account in a seasonable place) was the happy mother of seven sons and three daughters, which she would often say was Job's number and Job's distribution ; and as often bless God that they were neither defective in their shapes or in their reason, and very often reprove them that did not praise God for so -great a blessing. I shall give the reader a short account of their names, and not say much of their fortunes. Edward, the eldest, was first made Knight of the Bath at that glorious time of our late Prince Henry's* being installed Knight of the Garter, and after many years' useful travel, and the attainment of many languages, he was by King James sent Ambassador resi- dent to the then French King Louis XIII. There he continued about two years ; but he could not subject himself to a compliance pth the humours of the Duke de Luines, who was then the great and powerful favourite at Court, so that, upon a complaint to our King, he was called back into England in some displeasure; but at his return he gave such an honourable account of his employ- ment, and so justified his comportment to the Duke, and all the Court, that he was suddenly sent back upon the same embassy, from which he returned in the beginning of the reign of our good Kmg Charles I., who made him first Baron of Castle Island and not long after of Cherbury, in the county of Salop. He was a' man of great learning and reason, as appears ty his printed book " De Veritate," and by his " History of the Reign of Henry VIII. " and by several other tracts.t "' * Son of James I. ^ \^°'^ ^^^^i of Cherbury had also greatly distinguished himself in the Wars of the Netherlands by a romantic bravery. He was generous, and had great LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 3 The second and third brothers were Richard and William, who ventured their lives to purchase honour in the wars of the Low Countries, and died officers in that employment. Charles was the fourth, and died Fellow of New College, in pxford. Henry was the sixth, who became a menial servant to the Crown, in the days of King James, and continued to be so for fifty years, during all which time he hath been Master of the Revels, a place that requires a diligent wisdoni, with which God hath blessed him. The seventh son was Thomas, who, being made captain of a ship in that fleet with which Sir Robert Mansell was sent against Algiers, did there show a fortunate and true English valour. Of the three sisters I need not say more, than that they were all married to persons of worth and plentiful fortunes, and lived to be examples of virtue, and to do good in their generations? I now come to give my intended account of George, who was the fifth of those seven brothers. George Herbert spent much of his childhood in a sweet content under the eye and care of his prudent mother, and the tuition of a chaplain or tutor to him, and two of his brothers, in her own family (for she was then a widow), where he continued till about the age of twelve years ; and being at that time well instructed in the rules of grammar, he was not long after commended to the care of Dr. Neale„who was then Dean of Westminster, and by him to the care of Mr. Ireland, who was then chief master of that school ; where the beauties of hi.s pretty behaviour and wit shined and became so eminent and lovely in this his innocent age, that he seemed to be marked out for piety, and to become the care of Hea,ven, and of a particular good angel to guard and guide him. And thus he continued in that school till he came to be perfect in the learned languages, and especially in the Greek tongue, in which he after proved an excellent critic. About the age of fifteen (Ire being then a King's scholar) he was elected out of that school for Trinity- College in Cambridge, to which place he was tra,nsplanted about the year 1608;* and his abilities ; but it is sad to think of the brother of George Herbert as the author of " De Veritate," a book of which Hallam says, it is a "monument of an original independent thinker," but justly deemed inimical to every positive religion. He died 164S, 1 — 2 4 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. prudent mother, well knowing that he might easily lose or lessen that virtue and innocence which her advice and example had planted in his mind, did therefore procure the generous and liberal Dr. Nevil, who was then Dean of Canterbury, and master of that college, to take him into his particular care, and provide him a tutor; which he did most gladly' undertake; for he knew the excellences of his mother, and how to value such a friendship. This was the method of his education, till he was settled in Cambridge, where we will leave him in his study till I have paid my promised account of his excellent mother, and I will endeavour to make it short. I have told her birth, her marriage, and the number of her children, and have given some short account of them. I shall next tell the reader that her husband died when our George was about the age of four years. I am next to tell that she continued twelve years a widow ; that she then married happily to a noble gentleman,* the brother and heir of the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby, who did highly value both her person and the most excel- lent endowments of her mind. In this time of her widowhood, she being desirous to give Edward, her eldest son, such advantages of learning and other education as might suit his birth and fortune, and thereby make him the more fit for the service of his country, did, at his being of a fit age, remove from Montgomery Castle with him and some of her younger sons to Oxford ; and having entered Edward into Queen's College, and provided him a fit tutor, she commended him to his care; yet she continued there with him, and still kept him in a moderate awe of herself, and so much under her own eye as to see and converse with him daily; but she managed this power over him without any such rigid sourness as might make her company a torment to her child ; but with such a sweetness and compliance with the recreations and pleasures of youth as did incline him willingly to spend much of his time in the company of his dear and careful mother; which was to her great content •' • Sir John Danvers, of Danvers House, Chelsea, a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber to Charles I. It is distressing to think that after his exQellent wife's death, at the breaking out of the Rebellion, he joined the rebels, sat as judge at the mock trial of the King and affixed his signature to the death-warrant of Charles I. LII'E OF GEORGE HERBERT. 5 for she would often say, " That as our bodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat on which we feed, so our souls do as insensibly take in vice by the example or conversation with wicked company." And would therefore as often say, " That ignorance of vice was the best preservation of virtue ; and that the very knowledge of wickedness was as tinder to inflame and kindle sin, and to keep it burning." For these reasons she endeared him to her own company, and continued with him in Oxford four years ; in which time her great and harmless wit, her cheerful gravity, and her obliging behaviour, gained her an acquaintance and friendship with most of any eminent worth or learning that were at that time in or near that university ; and particularly with Mr. John Donne, who then came accidentally to that place in this time of her being there. It was that John Donne who was after Dr. Donne, and Dean of St. Paul's, London ; and he, at his leaving Oxford, writ and- left there in verse a character of the beauties of her body and mind. Of the first he says : No spring nor summer beauty has such grace As I have seen in an autumnal face. Of the latter, he says : In all her words, to every hearer fit, You may at revels or at council sit. The rest of ^ler character'may be read in his printed poems, in that elegy which bears the name of the " Autumnal Beauty." For both he and she were then past the meridian of man's life. This amity, begun at this time and place, was not an amity that polluted their souls, but an amity made up of a chain of suitable inclinations and virtues — an amity like that of St. Chrysostom's to his dear and virtuous Olympias, whom, in his letters, he calls his saint; or an amity, indeed, more like that of St. Hierom to his Paula, whose affection to her was such that he turned poet in his old age, and then made her epitaph : "wishing all his body were turned into tongues, that he might declare her just praises to pos- terity." And this amity betwixt her and Mr, Donne waS begun in a happy time for him, he being then near to the fortieth year of his age, which was some years before he entered into sacred orders — a time when his necessities needed a daily supply for the support 6 LIPE OP GEORGE HERBERT. of his wife, seven children, and a family ; and in this time she proved one of his most bountiful benefactors, and he as grateful an acknowledger of it. You may take one testimony for what I have said of these two worthy persons from this following letter and sonnet : " Madam, — " Your favours to me are everywhere ; I use them, and have them. I enjoy them at London, and leave them there ; and yet find them at Micham. Such riddles as these become things unexpressible, and such is your goodness. I was almost sorry to find your servant here this day, because I was loth to have any wit- ness of my not coming home last night, and indeed of my coming this morning ; but my not coming was excusable, because earnest business detained me ; and my coming this day is by the example of your St. Mary Magdalen, who rose early upon Sunday to seek that which she loved most; and so did I. And, from her and myself, I return such thanks as are due to one whom we owe all the good opinion that they whom we need most have of us. By this messenger, and on this good day, I commit the enclosed holy hymns and sonnets (which for the matter, not the workmanship, have yet escaped the fire) to your judgment, and to your protec- tion too, if you think them worthy of it ; and I have appointed this enclosed sonnet to usher them to your happy hand. " Your unworthiest servant, " Unless your accepting him to be so have mended him, - "Jo. Donne." " Micham, July ii, 1607. "To THE Lady Magdalen Herbert, of St. Mary -Magdalen. " Her of your name, whose fair inheritance Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo, An active faith so highly did advance. That she once knew more than the Church did know, The resurrection ; so much good there is Delivered of her, that some fathers be Loth to believe one woman could do this. But think these Magdalens were two or three. LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 7 Increase their number, lady, and their fame : To their devotion add your innocence ; Take so much th' example as of the name ; The latter half j and in some recompense That they did harbour Christ Himself a guest. Harbour these hymns to His dear name addrest. "J. D." These hymns are now lost to us ; but doubtless they were such as the]- two now sing in heaven. There might be more demonstrations of the friendship and the many sacred endearments betwixt these two excellent persons (for I have many of their letters in my hand), and much more might be said of her great prudence and piety; but my design was not to write hers, but the life of her son, and therefore I shall only tell my reader that about that very day twenty years that this letter was dated, and sent her, I saw and heard this Mr. John Donne (who was then Dean of St. Paul's) weep, and preach her funeral sermon in the parish church of ChelSey, near London, where she now rests in her quiet grave, and where we must now leave her, and return to her son George, whom we left in his study in Cambridge. And in Cambridge we may find our George Herbert's behaviour to be such that we may conclude he consecrated the first-fruits of his early age to virtue and a serious study of learning. And that he did so, this following letter and sonnet, which were in the first year of his going to Cambridge, sent his dear mother for a New Year's gift, may appear to be some testimony : " But I fear the heat of my late ague hath dried up those springs by which scholars say the Muses use to take up their habi- tations. However, I need not their help to reprove the vanity of those many love poems that are daily writ and consecrated to Venus, nor to bewail that so few are writ that look towards God and heaven. For my own part, my meaning, dear mother, is in these sonnets to declare my resolution to be that my poor abilities in poetry shall be all aijd ever consecrated to God's glory; and I beg you to receive this as one testimouY : 8 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. " My God, where is that ancient heat towards Thee, Wherewith whole shoals of martyrs once did bum, Besides their other flames? Doth Poetry Wear Venus' livery ?— only serve her turn ? Why are not sonnets made of Thee, and lays Upon Thine altar burnt ? Cannot Thy love Heighten a spirit to sound out Thy praise As well as any she ? Cannot Thy dove Outstrip their Cupid easily in flight ? Or, since Thy ways are deep, and still the same. Will not a verse run smooth that bears Thy name ? Why doth that fire, which by Thy power and might Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose Than that which one day worms may chance refuse? " Sure, Lord, there is enough in Thee to dry Oceans of ink ; for, as the Deluge did Cover the earth, so doth Thy majesty ; Each cloud distils Thy praise, and doth forbid Poets to turn it to another use. Roses and lilies speak Thee ; and to make A pair of cheeks of them is Thy abuse : Why should I women's eyes for crystal take? Such poor invention burns in their low mind, Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go To praise, and on Thee, Lord, some ink bestow. Open the bones, and you shall nothing find In the best face but filth ; when. Lord, in Thee The beauty lies in the discovery. " G. H." This was his resolution at the pending this letter to his dear mother,' about which time he was in the seventeenth year of his age ; and as he grew older, so he grew in learning, and more and more in favour both with God and man — insomuch, that in this morning of that short day of his hfe, he seemed to be marked out for virtue, and to become the care of Heaven; for God still kept his soul in so holy a frame, that he may and ought to be a pattern of virtue to all posterity, and especially to his brethren of the clergy LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 9 — of which the reader may expect a more exact account in what will follow. I need not declare that he was a strict student, because, that he was so, there will be many testimonies in the future part of his life. I shall therefore only tell that he was m^de Bachelor of Arts in the year 161 1 j Major Fellow of the College, March isth, 1615 ; and that in that year he was also made Master of Arts, he being then in the twenty-second year of his age — during all which time all, or the greatest diversion from his study, was the practice of music, in which he became a great master, and of which he would say, "That it did relieve his drooping spirits, compose his distracted thoughts, and raised his weary soul so far above the earth, that it gave him an earnest of the joys of heaven before he possessed them." And it may be noted, that from his first entrance into the college, the generous Dr. Nevil was a cherisher of his studies, and such a lover of his person, his behaviour, and the excellent endowments of his mind, that he took him often into his own company, by which he confirmed his native gentleness ; and if during this time he ex- pressed any error, it was that he kept himself too much retired, and at too great a distance with all his inferiors ; and his clothes seemed to prove that he put too great a value on his parts and parentage. This may be some account of his disposition, and of the employ- ment of his time, till he was Master of Arts, which was Anno 161 5; and in the year 1 619 he was chosen Orator for the university. His two precedent Orators were Sir Robert Naunton and Sir Francis Nethersole. The first was not long after made Secretary of State j and Sir Francis, not very long after his being orator, was made secretary to the Lady Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia.* In this place of orator our George Herbert continued eight years, and managed it with as becoming and grave a gaiety as any had ever before or since his time. For he had acquired great learning, and was blest with a high fancy, a civil and sharp wit, and with a natural elegance, both in his behaviour, his tongue, and his pen. Of all which there might be very many particular evidences, but I will hmit myself to the mention of but three. And the first notable occasion of showing his fitness for this » Daughter of James I. io LIFE OF GEOkGF HERBERT. employment of orator was manifested in a letter to King James upon the occasion of his sending that university his book, called "Basilicon Doron^"* and their orator was to acknowledge this great honour, and return their gratitude to his Majesty for such a condescension, at the close of which letter he writ, QUID VATICANAM BODLEIANAMQUE OBJICIS HOSPES ! UNICUS EST NOBIS BIBLIOTHECA LIBER. This letter was writ in such excellent Latin, was so full of con- ceits, and all the expressions so suited to the genius of the King, that he inquired the orator's name, and then asked William, Earl of Pembroke, if he knew him; whose answer was, "That he knew him very well, and that he was his kinsman ; but he loved him more for his learning and virtue, than for that he was of his name and family." At which answer the King smiled, and asked the Earl leave " That he might love him to<5 ; for he took him to be the jewel of that university." The next occasion he had and took to show his great abilities was with them to shew also his great affection to that Church in which he received his baptism, and of which he professed himself a member ; and the occasion was this : There was one Andrew Melvin, a minister of the Scotch Church, and rector of St. Andrew's, who, by a long and constant converse with a discontented part of that clergy which opposed episcopacy, became at last to be a chief leader of that faction; and had proudly appeared to be so to King James, when he was but King of that nation ; who, the second year after his coronation in England, convened a part of the bishops and other learned divines of his Church, to attend him at Hampton Court, in order to a friendly conference' with some dissenting brethren, both of this and the Church of Scotland ; of which Scotch party Andrew Melvin was one ;t and he being a man of * This work is entitled, "Basilicon Doron ; or, His Majesty's Instructions to his dearest Son, Henry tlie Prince," 1599. t Andrew Melville was not present at the celebrated conference with the Puritans held at Hampton Court in 1603, but at a private conference held at the same place between James I. and a few Scottish ministers in 1606. In the first edition of Walton's ' ' Life of Mr. George Herbert, " Melville is described to be " master of a great wit ; a wit full of knots and clenches ; a wit sharp and satirical ; exceeded, I think, by none of that nation, but their Buchanan." LIFE OP GMORGE BERBER f. ii learning, and inclined to satirical poetry, had scattered many malicious bitter verses against our liturgy, our ceremonies, and our Church government j which were by some of that party so magnified for the wit, that they were therefore brought into Westminster School, where Mr. George Herbert then, and often after,-made such answers to them, and such reflections on him and his kirk, as might unbeguile any man that was not too deeply pre-engaged in such a quarrel. But to return to Mr. Melvin at Hampton Court conference : he there appeared to be a man of an unruly wit, of a strange con- fidence, of so furious a zeal, and of so ungovemed passions, that his insolence to the King and others at this conference lost him both his rectorship of St. Andrew's and his liberty too. For his former verses and his present reproaches there used against the Church and State, caused him to be committed prisoner to the Tower of London, where he remained very angry for three years. At which time of his commitment he found the Lady Arabella* an innocent prisoner there ; and he, pleased himself much in sending the next day after his commitment these two verses to the good lady; which I will underwrite, because they may give the reader a taste of his others, which were like these : CAUSA TIBI MECUM EST COMMUNIS CARCERIS : ARABELLA TIBI CAUSA EST, ARAQUE SACRA MIHL I shall not trouble my reader with an account of his enlargement from that prison, or his death ; but tell him Mr. Herbert's verses were thought so worthy to be preserved, that Dr. Duport, the learned Dean of Peterborough, hath lately collected and caused many of them to be printed, as an honourable memorial of his friend, Mr. George Herbert, and the cause he undertook. And in order to my third and last observation of his great abilities, it will be needful to declare that about this time King James came very often to hunt at Newmarket and Royston, and was almost as often invited to Cambridge, where his entertainment * Arabella Stuart, James I.'s first cousin ; her father being Charles Stuart, Duke of Lenox, brother to Henry Darnley, Mary of Scotland's husband. She was im- prisoned for having secretly married William Seymour, and died insane in the Tower, 1615. 12 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. was comedies suited to his pleasant humour; and where Mr. George Herbert was to welcome him with gratulations and the applauses of an orator, which he always performed so well, that he still grew more, into the King's favour, insomuch that he had a particular appointment to attend his Majesty at Royston ; where, after a discourse' with him, his Majesty declared to his kinsman, the Earl of Pembroke, "That he found the orator's learning and wisdom much above his age or wit." The year following, the King appointed to end his progress at Cambridge, and to stay there, certain days; at which time he was attended by the great secretary of nature and all learning, Sir Francis Bacon (Lord ' Verulam), and by the ever-memorable and learned Dr. Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, both which did at that time begin a desired friendship with our orator : upon whom the first put such a value on his judgment, that he usually desired his approbation before he would expose any of his books to be printed, and thought him so worthy of his friendship, that, having translated many of the prophet . David's psalms into English verse, he made George Herbert his patron, by a public dedication* of them to him,, as the best judge of divine poetry. And for the learned bishop, it is observable, that at that time there fell to be a modest debate betwixt them two about predestination and sanctity of life ; of both which the orator did, not long after, send the bishop some safe and useful aphorisms, in a long letter, written in Greek; which letter was so remarkable for the language and reason of it, tliat, after reading it, the bishop put it into his bosom, ahd did often show it to many scholars, both of this and foreign nations j but did always return it back to the place where he first lodged it, and continued it so near his heart till ,the last day of his life. To these I might add the long and entire friendship betwixt • Published in 410, 1625. The dedication runs' thus : " To his very good friend, Mr. George Herbert.— The pains that it pleased you to take about some of my writings I cannot forget, which did put me in mind to dedicate to you this poor exercise of my sickness. Besides, it being my manner for dedications to choose those that I hold most fit for the argument, I thought that in respect of divinity and poesy met, whereof the one is the matter, the other the style of this little writing, I could not make better choice ; so with signification of my love and acknowledgment I ever rest, " Vour affectionate friend, "Fk. St. Alb.\ns." LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 13 him and Sir Henry Wotton,* and Dr. Donne,+ but I have promised to contract myself, and shall therefore only add one testimony to what is also mentioned in the Life of Dr. Donne ; namely, that a Httle before his death he caused many seals to be made, and in them 10 be engraven the figure of Christ crucified on an anchor (the emblem of hope), and of which Dr. Donne would often say, crux mihi anchora. These seals he gave or sent to most of those friends on which he put a value ; and, at Mr. Herbert's death, these verses were found wrapped up with that seal which was by the doctor given to him : When my dear friend could write no more, He gave this seal, and so gave o'er. When winds and waves rise highest, I am sure. This anchor keeps my faith, that me, secure, t At this time of being orator, he had learnt to understand the rtalian, Spanish, and French tongues very perfectly ; hoping that, as his predecessors, so he might in time attain the place of a Secretary of State, he being at that time very high in the King's favour, and not meanly valued and loved by the most eminent and most powerful of the Court nobility. This and the love of a Court conversation, mixed with a laudable ambition to be something more/than he then was, drew him often from Cambridge to attend the King wheresoever the Court was, who then gave him a sinecure, which fell into his Majesty's disposal, I think, by the death of the Bishop of St. Asaph. It was the same that Queen Elizabeth had * Sir Henry Wotton was. bom 1568, at Boughton Hall, in Kent. He was secretary to Elizabeth's unfortunate favourite, Essex, and on the fall of the Earl went to i:eside at Florence. In 1602 the Grand Duke of Tuscany sent him on a secret mission to James VI. of Scotland, and that King was so pleased with him that on his accession to the throne of England, he employed Sir Henry on various missions to the Courts of Italy and Germany. He was not only a distinguished diplomatist, but a devout Christian, fie died 1639, seven years after Herbert. t John Donne, bom 1573, was brought up in the Romish faith, but after com- pleting his studies he embraced that of the Church of England, and became secretary to the Lord Chancellor Ellesmere. He clandestinely married the Chancel- lor's niece, and, in consequepce, lost his office, and was imprisoned. On his release he took orders, was made one of King James' chaplains, and Dean of St. Paul's. Donne is said by Dr. Johnson to have been the founder of the metaphysical school of poetry. Died 1631. See Walton's Lives of him and Sir H. Wotton. ♦ .See Latin poems : "Ac! Johanncm Donne, D.D., de uno sigillorum ejus, anchora et christo." 14 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. formerly given to her favourite Sir Philip Sidney, and valued to be worth a hundred and twenty pounds pei? annum. With this and his annuity, and the advantage of his college and of his oratorship, he enjoyed his-genteel humour for clothes and Court-like company,, and seldom looked towards Cambridge unless the King were there, but then' he never failed ; and, at other times, left the manage of his orator's place to his learned friend Mr. Herbert Thorndike, who is now* prebendary of Westminster. I may not omit to tell that he had often designed to leave -the university, and decline all study, which he thought did impair his health ; for he had a body apt to a consumption, and to fevers, and other infirmities, which he judged were increased by his studies ; for he would often say, " He had too thoughtful a wit ; a wit like a penknife in too narrow a sheath, too sharp for his body." But his mother would by no means allow him to leave the university or to travel ; and though he inclined very much to both, yet he would by no means satisfy his own desires-at so dear a rate as to prove an undutiful son to so affectionate a mother ; but did always submit to her wisdom. And what I have now said may partly appear in a copy of verses in his printed poems : it is one of those that bear the title of "Affliction ;" and it appears to be a pious reflection on God's providence, and some passages of his life, in which he says : " Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town ; Thou didst betray me to a ling'ring book, And wrap me in a gown. I was entangled in a world of strife. Before I had the power to change my life. " Yet, for I threatened oft the siege to raise. Not simp'ring all mine age. Thou often didst with academic praise Melt and dissolve my rage. I took thy sweetened pill, till I came near, I could not go away, nor persevere. * In Walton's time. He died in 1672. LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 15 " Yet lest, perchance, I should too happy be In my unhappiness, . Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me Into more sicknesses, Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking. " Now I am here, what thou wilt do whh me None of my books will show ; I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree ; For then sure I should grow To fruit or shade ; at least some bird would trust Her household to me, and I should be just. " Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek, In weakness must be stout. Well, I will change my service, and go seek Some other master out. Ah ! my dear God, though I am clean forgot. Let me not love Thee, if I love Thee not. "G. H." In this time of Mr. Herbert's attendance and expectation of some good occasion to remove from Cambridge to Court, God, ip whom there is an unseen change of causes, did, in a short time, put an end to the lives of two of his most obliging and most powerful friends, Lodowick, Duke of Richmond, and James, Marquis of Hamilton ; and not long after him. King James died also,* and with them all Mr. Herbert's Court hopes ; so that he presently betook himself to a retreat from London, to a friend in Kent, where he lived very privately, and was such a lover of soli- tariness, as was judged to impair his health more than his study had done. In this time of retirement, he had many conflicts with himself, whether he should return to the painted pleasutes of,d. Court life, or betake himself to a study of divinity, and enter into sacred orders, to which his dear mother had often persuaded him. These were such conflicts as they only can know that have endured * James I. died 27th March, 1625. 1 6 IJFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. them ; for ambitious desires, and the outward glory of this world, are not easily I'aid aside ; but at last God inclined him to put on a resolution to serve at His altar. He did at his return to London acquaint a Court friend with his resolution to enter into sacred orders, who persuaded him to alter it, as too mean an employment, and too much below his birth and the excellent abilities and endowments of his mind. To whom he replied, "It hath been formerly adjudged that the domestic servants of the King of heaven should be of the noblest families on earth ; and though the iniquity of the late times have made clergymen meanly valued, and the sacred name of priest con- temptible, yet I will labour to make it honourable by consecrating all my learning, and all my poor abilities, to advance the glory of that God that gave them ; knowing that I can never do too much for Him that hath done so much for me as to make me a Christian. And I will labour to be like my Saviour, by making humility lovely in the eyes of all men, and by following the merciful and meek example of my dear Jesus." This was then his resolution, and the God of constancy, who intended him for a great example of virtue, continued him in it ; for within that year he was made deacon, but the day when, or by whom, I cannot learn; but that he was about that time made deacon is most certain ; for I find by the records of Lincoln that he was made prebendary of Layton Ecclesia, in the diocese of Lincoln, July isth, 1626 ; and that this prebend was given him by John, then lord bishop of that See. And now he had a fit occasion to show that piety and bounty that was derived from his generous mother, and his other memorable ancestors, and the occasion was " this : ^ This Layton Ecclesia is a village near to Spalden, in the county of Huntingdon, and the greatest part of the parish church was fallen down, and that of it which stood was so decayed, so little and so useless, that the parishioners could not meet to perform their duty to God in public prayer and praises j and thus it had been for almost twenty years, in which time there had been some feint endeavours for a public collection, to enable the parishioners to rebuild it, but with no success, till Mr. Herbert undertook it ■ and he, by his own and the contribution of many of his kindred' LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 17 and other noble friends, undertook the re-edification of it, and made it so much his wTiole business, that he became restless till he saw it finished as it now stands ; being for the workmanship a costly mosaic ; for the form an exact cross ; and for the decency and beauty, I am assured, it is the most remarkable parish church that this nation affords. He lived to see it so wainscoted as to be exceeded by none j and by his order the reading pew and pulpit were a little distant from each other, and both of an equal height ; for he would often say, " They should neither have a precedency or priority of the other ; but that prayer and preaching, being equally useful, might agree like brethren, and have an equal honour and estimation." Before I proceed further, I must look back to the time of Mr. Herbert's being. made prebendary, and tell the reader, that not long after, his mother, being informed of his intentions to rebuild that church, and apprehending the great trouble and charge that he was likely to draw upon himself, his relations, and friends, before it could be finished, sent for him from London to Chelsea (where she then dwelt), and at his coming said, "George, I sent for you to persuade you to commit simony, by giving your patron as good a gift as he has given you ; namely, that you give him back his prebend; for, George, it is not for your weak body and empty purse to undertake to build churches." Of which he desired he might have a day's time to consider, and then make her an answer ; and at his return to her the next day, when he had first desired her blessing, and she given it him^ his next request was, "That she would, at the age of thirty-three years, allow him to become an undutiful son ; for he had made a vow to God that, if he were able, he would rebuild that church." And then showed her such reasons for his resolution that she presently subscribed to be one of his benefactors, and undertook to solicit William, Earl of Pembroke, to become another, who subscribed for fifty pounds ; and not long after, by a witty and persuasive letter from Mr. Herbert, made it fifty pounds more. And in this nomination of some of his benefactors, James, Duke of Lennox, and his brother. Sir Henry Herbert, ought to be remembered \ as also the bpunty of Mr. Nicholas Ferrar and Mr. Arthur Woodnot ; the one a. gentle- man in the neighbourhood of Layton, and the other a goldsmith 2 l8 LIPE. OP GEORGE HERBERT. in Foster Lane, London, ought not to be forgotten, for the memory of such men ought to outHve their lives. Of Mr. Ferrar I shall hereafter give an account in a more seasonable place j but before I proceed further, I will give this short account of Mr. Arthur Woodnot. He was a man that had considered overgrown estates do often require more care and watchfulness to preserve than get them, and considered that there be many discontents that riches cure not, and did therefore set limits to himself as to the desire of wealth. And having attained so much as to be able to show some mercy to the poor and preserve a competence for himself, he dedicated the remaining part of his life to the service of God, and to be useful for his friends ; and he proved to be so to Mr. Herbert, for, beside his own bounty, he collected and returned most of the money that was paid for the rebuilding of that church ; he kept all account of the charges, and would often go down to state them, and see all the workmen'paid. When I have said that this good man was an use- ful friend to Mr. Herbert's father and to his mother, and continued to be so to him, till he closed his eyes on his death-bed, I will for- bear to say more, till I have the next fair occasion to mention the holy friendship that was betwixt him and Mr. Herbert. From whom Mr. Woodnot carried to his mother this following letter, and delivered it to her in a sickness, which was not long before that which proved to be her last : A Letter of Mr. George Herbert to his Mother in her sickness. Madam, — At my last parting from you, I was the better content be- cause I was in hope I should myself carry all sickness out of your family; but since I know I did not, and that your share continues, or rather increaseth, I wish earnestly that I were again with you ; and would quickly make good my wish, but that my employment does fix me here, it being now but a month to our commencement, wherein my absence by how much it naturally augmented suspicion, by so much shall it make my prayers the more constant and the more earnest for you to the God of all consolation. In the mean- time, I beseech you to be cheerful, and comfort yourself in the LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 19 God of all comfort, who is not willing to behold any sorrow but for sin. What hath affliction grievous in it more than for a moment? or why should our afflictions here have so much power or boldness as to oppose the hope of our joys hereafter ? Madam, as the earth is but a fMDint in respect of the heavens, so are earthly troubles com- pared to heavenly joys ; therefore, if either age or sickness lead you to those joys, consider what advantage you have over youth and health, who are. now so near those true comforts. Your last letter gave me earthly preferment, and I hope kept heavenly for yourself J but would you divide and choose too ? Our college customs allow not that ; and I should account myself most happy if I might change with you ; for I have always observed the thread of life to be Uke other threads or skeins of silk, full of snarls and incumbrances. Happy is he whose bottom is wound up and laid ready for work in the New Jerusalem. For myself, dear mother, I always feared sickness more than death, because sickness hath made me unable to perform those offices for which I came into the world, and must yet be kept in it ; but you are freed from that fear, who have ahready abundantly discharged that part, having both ordered your family and so brought up your children that they have attained to the years of discretion and competent main- tenance. So that now if they do not well, the fault cannot be charged on you, whose example and care of them, will justify you both to the world and your own conscience; insomuch, that whether you turn your thoughts on the life past, or on the joys that are to come, you have strong preservatives against all disquiet. And for temporal afflictions, I beseech you consider all that can happen to you are either afflictions of estate, or body, or mind. For those of estate, of what poor regard ought they to be, since if we had riches, we are commanded to give them away ? So that the best use of them is, having, not to have them. But, perhaps, being above the common people, our credit and estimation call on us to live in a more splendid fashion ; but, O God, how easily is that answered, when we consider that the blessings in the Holy Scripture are never given to the rich, but to the poor. I never find " Blessed be the rich," or " Blessed be the noble," but " Blessed be the meek," and " Blessed be the poor," and " Blessed be the mournersj for they shall be comforted." And yetj O God ! most - 2—2 20 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. carry themselves so, as if they not only not desired, but even feared to be blessed. And for afflictions of the body,-dear madam, re- member the holy martyrs of God, how they have been burnt by thousands, and have endured such other tortures as the very men- tion of them might beget amazement ; but their fiery trials have had an end, and yours (which, praised be God ! are less) are not like to continue lotag. I beseech you, let such thoughts as these moderate your present fear and sorrow ; and. know that if any of yours should prove a Goliath-like trouble, yet you may say with David, " That God, who delivered me out of the paws of the lion and bear, will also deUver me otit of the hands of this uncircum- cised Philistine." Lastly, for those afflictions of the soul : consider that God intends that to be as a sacred temple for Himself to dwell in, and will not allow any room there for such an inmate as grief, or allow that any sadness shall be His competitor. And, above all, if any care of future things molest you, remember those admir- able words of the Psalmist : " Cast thy care on the Lord, and He shall nourish thee " (Psal. Iv. 22). To which join that of St. Peter. " Casting all your care on the Lord, for He careth for you " (I. Pet. V. 7). What an admirable thing is this, that God puts His shoulder to our burden, and entertains our care for us, that we may the more quietly intend His service. To conclude, let me commend only one place more to you (Philip, iv. 4) : St. Paul saith there, " Re- joice in the Lord always ; and again I say, rejoice." He doubles it to take away the scruple of those that might say, "What, shall we rejoice in affliction ? " Yes, I say again, rejoice ; so that it is not left to us to rejoice or not rejoice; but whatsoever befalls us, we must always, at all times, rejoice in the Lord, who taketh care of us. And it follows in the next verse; " Let your moderation appear unto all men : the Lord is at hand : be careful for nothing." What can be said more comfortably ? Trouble not yourselves, God is at ' hand to deliver us from all, or in all. Dear madam, ]^ardon my boldness, and accept the good meaning of Your most obedient son, George Herbert. Trin. Coll. May 2sth, 1622. About the year 1629, and the thirty-fourth of his age, Mr. LTFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 31 Herbert was seized with a sharp quotidian ague, and thought to remove it by the change of air ; to which end he went to Woodford in ESsex, tut thither more chiefly to enjoy the company of his beloved brother, Sir Henry Herbert, and other friends then of that family. In his house he remained about twelve months, and there became his own physician, and cured himself of his ague by . forbearing drink, and not eating any meat, no, not mutton, nor a hen or pigeon, unless they were salted ; and by such a constant diet he removed his ague, Jaut with inconveniences that were worse j for he brought upon himself a disposition to rheums and other weaknesses, and a supposed consumption. And it is to be noted that in the sharpest of his extreme fits he would often say, " Lord, abate my great aiifliction, or increase my patience ; but, Lord, I repine not; I am dumb. Lord, before Thee, because Thou doest it." By which, and a sanctified submission to the will of God, he showed he was inclinable to bear the sweet yoke of Christian discipline, both then and in the latter part of his life, of which there will be many true testimonies. And now his care was to recover from his consumption by a change from Woodford into such an air as was most proper to that end. And his remove was to Dauntsey in Wiltshire, a noble house which stands in a choice aii" ; the owner of it then was the Lord Dan vers,* Earl of Danby, who loved Mr. Herbert so very much, that he allowed him such an apartment in it as might best suit with his accommodation and liking. And in this place, by a spare diet, declining all perplexing studies, moderate exercise, and a cheerful conversation, his health was apparently improved to a good degree of strength and cheerfulness. And then he declared his resolution both to' marry and to enter into the sacred orders of priesthood. These had long been the desire of his mother and his other relations ; but she lived not to see either, for she died in the year 1627. And though he was disobedient to her about Layton Church, yet in conformity to her will, he kept his Orator's * Henry Danvers served as captain in the army sent by Elizabeth to aid Henry IV. of France ; as major-general under Essex in Ireland, and was created Earl of Danby, co. York, by Charles I., 1626. He was founder of a botanic garden at Oxford. On his monument are the lines composed by Herbert to his memory, which are printec^among the Miscellaneous Poems. The epitaph was written many years before Lord Danby's death. 22 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. place till after her death, and then presently declined it ; and the more willingly that he might be succeeded by his friend Robert Creighton, who now is Dr. Creighton and the worthy Bishop of Wells. I shall now proceed to his marriage ; in order to which it will be convenient that I first give the reader a short view of his person, and then an account of his wife, and of some circumstances con- cerning both. He was for his person of a stature inclining towards tallness ; his body was very straight, and so far from being cumbered with too much flesh, that he was lean to an extremity. His aspect was cheerful, and his speech and motion did both declare him a gentleman ; for they were all so meek and obliging, that they pur- chased love and respect froiij all that knew him. These, and his other visible virtues, begot him much love from a gentleman of a noble fortune, and a near kinsman to his friend the Earl of Danby ; namely, from Mr. Charles Danvers of Bainton, in the county of Wilts, Esq. ; this Mr. Danvers having known him long and familiarly, did so much affect him, that he often and publicly declared a desire that Mr. Herbert would marry any of his nine daughters (for he had so many), but rather his daughter _ Jane than any other, because Jane was his beloved daughter. And he had often said the same to Mr. Herbert himself; and that if he could like her for a wife, and she him for a husband, Jane should have a double blessing; and Mr. Danvers had so often said the like to Jane, and so much commended Mr. Herbert to her, that Jane became so much a Platonic as to fall in love with Mr. Herbert unseen. This was a fair preparation for a marriage ; but, alas ! her father died before Mr. Herbert's retirement to Dauntsey; yet some friends to both parties procured their meeting; at which time a mutual affection entered into both their hearts, as a conqueror enters into a surprised city, and love having got such possession, governed and made there such laws and resolutions as neither party was able to resist; insomuch that she changed her name into Herbert the third day after this first interview. This haste might in others be thought a love freniy, or worse ; tut \\ was not, for they had wooed so like princes as to have select LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 23 proxies ; such as were true friends to both parties j such as well understood Mr. Herbert's and her temper of mind, and also their estates, so well before this interview, that the suddenness was justifiable by the strictest rules of prudence; and the more, because it proved so happy to both parties. For the eternal Lover of mankind made them happy in each other's mutual and equal affections and compliance ; indeed, so happy, that there never was any opposition betwixt them, unless it were a contest which should most incline to a compliance with the other's desires. And though this begot, and continued in them, such a mutual love, and joy, and content, as was no way defective; yet this mutual content, and love, and joy, did receive a daily augmentation, by such daily obligingness to each other, as still added such new affluences to the former fulness of these divine souls as was only improvable in heaven, where they now enjoy it. About three months after his marriage. Dr. Curie, who was then rector of Bemerton in Wiltshire, was made Bishop of Bath and Wells, and not long after translated to Winchester, and by that means the presentation of a clerk to Bemerton did not fall to the Earl of Pembroke (who was the undoubted patron of it), but to the King, by reason of Dr. Curie's advancement. But Philip, then Earl of Pembroke (for William was lately dead), requested the King to bestow it on his kinsman, George Herbert ; and the King said, " Most willingly to Mr. Herbert, if it be worth his acceptance." And the Earl as willingly and suddenly sent it to him without seeking. But though Mr. Herbert had formerly put on a resolution for the clergy, yet, at receiving this, presentation, the apprehension of the last great account that he was to make for the cure of so many souls, made him fast and pray often, and consider for not less than a month ; in which time he had some resolutions to decline both the priesthood and that living. And in this time of considering, "he endured (as he would often say) such spiritual conflicts as none can think, but only those that have endured them. In the midst of these conflicts, his old and dear friend, Mr. Arthur Woodnot, took a journey to salute him at Sainton (where he then was with his wife's friends and rejations), and was joyful to be an eye-witness of his health and happy marriage. And after 24 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. they had rejoiced together some few days, they took a journey to Wilton, the famous seat of the Earls of Pembroke ; at which time the King, the Earl, and the whole Court were there, or at Salisbury, which is near to it. And at 'this time Mr. Herbert presented his thanks to the Earl for his presentation to Bemerton, but had not yet resolved to accept it, and told him the reason why ; but that night the Earl acquainted Dr. Laud,* then Bishop of London, and after Archbishop of Canterbury, with his kinsman's irresolution. And the Bishop did the next day so convince Mr. Herbert that the refusal of it was a sin, that a tailor was sent for to come speedily from Salisbury to Wilton to take measure, and make him canonical clothes against next day ; which the tailor did ; and Mr. Herbert being so habited, went with his presentation to the learned Dr. Davenant, who was then Bishop of Salisbury, and he gave him institution immediately (for Mr. Herbert had been made deacon some years before), and he was also the same day (which was April 26, 1630) inducted into the good and more pleasant than healthful parsonage of Bemerton, which is a milet from Salisbury. I have now brought him to the parsonage of Bemerton, and to the thirty-sixth year of his age, and must stop here, and bespeak the reader to prepare for an almost incredible story of the great sanctity of the short remainder of his holy life ; a life so full of charity, humility, and all Christian virtues, that it deserves the eloquence of St. Chrysostom to commend and declare it ; a life, that if it were related by a pen like his, there would then be no need for this age to look back into times past for the examples of primitive piety, for they might be all found in the life of George Herbert. But now, alas ! who is fit to undertake it? I confess I am not ; and am not pleased with myself that I must ; and profess myself amazed when I consider how few of the clergy lived like him then, and how many live so unlike him now. But it becomes not me to censure. My design is rather to assure the reader that I have used very great diligence to inform myself, that I might inform him of the truth of what follows; and though I cannot adorn it with eloquence, yet I will do it with sincerity. When at his induction he was shut into Bemerton Church, being * Afterwards beheaded by the rebels. + Rather more than a mile. LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 25 left there alone to toll the bell (as the law requires him),* he stayed so much longer than an ordinary time before he returned to those friends that stayed expecting him at the church door, that his friend Mr. Woodnot looked in at the church window, and saw him lie prostrate on the ground before the altar ; at which time and place (as he after told Mr. Woodnot) he set some rules to himself for the future manage of his life, and then and there made a vow to labour to keep them. And the same night that he had his inductioh, he said to Mr. Woodnot, " I now look back upon my aspiring thoughts, and think myself more happy than if I had attained what then I so ambi- tiously thirsted for ; and I can now behold the Court with an im- 1 partial eye, and see plainly that it is made up of fraud, and titles, and flattery, and many other such empty, imaginary, painted plea- sures — pleasures that are so empty as not to satisfy when they are enjoyed. But in God and His service is a fulness of all joy and pleasure, and no satiety.- And I will now use all my endeavours to bring my relations and dependants to a love and reliance on Him, who never fails those that trust Him. But, above all, I will be sure to live well, because the virtuous life of a clergyman is the most powerful eloquence to persuade all that see it to reverence and love, and at least to desire to live like Him. And this I will do, because I know we live in an age that hath more need of good examples than precepts. And I beseech that God, who hath honoured me so much as to call me to serve Him at His altar, that as by His special grace He hath put into my heart these good desires and resolutions ; so He will-, by His assisting grace, give me ghostly strength to bring the same to good effect. And I be- seech Him that my humble and charitable life may so win upon others as to bring glory to my JESUS, whom I have this day taken to be my Master and Governor ; and I am so proud of His service, that I will always observe, and obey, and do His will, and always call Him 'Jesus, my Master;' and I will always contemn my birth, or any title or dignity that can be conferred upon me, when I shall compare them with my title of being a priest, and serving at the altar of Jesus my Master." * To make his induction known to the parishioners. A small square western tower at Bemerton still contains the ancient bell. See " Notes and Queries " for 1850. 26 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. And that he did so may appear in many parts of his " Book of Sacred Poems," especially in that which he calls " The Odour "— in which he se6ms to rejoice in the thoughts of that word, "Jesus," and sayrthat the adding these words, "my Master," to it, and the often repetition of them, seemed to perfume his mind and leave an jQriental fragrancy in his very breath. And for his unforced choice to sbrve at God's altar, he seems in another place of his poems ("The Pearl," Matt, xiii.) to rejoice, and say, "he knew the ways of learning ;' knew what nature does willingly, and what when it is forced by fire ; knew the ways of honour, and when gloiy in- chnes the soul to noble expressions ; knew the Court ; knew the ways of pleasure, of love, of wit, of music, and upon what terms he declined all these for the service of his Master JESUS ; and then concludes, saying, That through these labyrinths, not my grovelling wit, But Thy silk twist, let down from heaven to me. Did both conduct and teach me, how by it To climb to Thee. The third day after he was made Rector of Bemerton, and had changed his sword and silk clothes into a canonical coat, he re- turned so habited with his friend Mr. Woodnot to Bainton ; and immediately after he had seen and saluted his wife, he said to her, " You are now a minister's wife, and must now so far forget your father's house, as not to claim a precedence of any of your parish- ioners ; for you are to know that a priest's wife can challenge no precedence or place but that which she purchases by her obliging humility; and I am sure places so purchased do best become them. And let me tell you that I am so good a herald as to assure you that this is truth." And she was so meek a wife as to assure him it was no vexing news to her, and that he should see her observe it with a cheerful willingness. And, indeed, her unforced humility —that humility that was in her so original as to be born with her — made her so happy as to do so ; and her doing so begot her an un- feigned love and a serviceable respect from all that conversed with her ; and this love followed her in all places as inseparably as shadows follow substances in sunshine. It was not many days before he returned back to Bemerton, to LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 8? view the church and repair the chancel, and, indeed, to rebuild almost three parts of his house, which was fallen down or decayed by reason of his predecessor's living at a better parsonage house, namely, at Minal,* sixteen or twenty miles from this place. At" which time of Mr. Herbert's coming alone to Bemerton, there came to him a poor old woman, with an intent to acquaint him with her necessitous condition, as also with some troubles of her mind; bu,t after she had spoke some few words to him, she was surprised with a fear, and that begot a shortness of breath, so that her spirits and speech failed her, which he perceiving, did so com- passionate her, and was so humble, that he took her by the hand, and said, " Speak, good mother ; be not afraid to speak to me, for I am a man that will hear you with patience, and will relieve your necessities too if I be able, and this I will do willingly ; and there- fore, mother, be not afraid to acquaint me with what you desire." After which comfortable speech he again took her by the hand, made her sit down by him, and understanding she was of his parish, he told her, " he would be acquainted with her, and take her into his care." And having with patience heard and understood her wants (and it is some relief for a poor body to be but heard with patience), he, like a Christian clergyman, comforted her by his meek beha- viour and counsel ; but because that cost him nqthing, he relieved her with money too, and so sent her home with a cheerful heart, praising God and praying for him. Thus worthy, and (like David's blessed man) thus lowly, was Mr. George Herbert in his own eyes, and thus lovely in the eyes of others. At his return that night to his wife at Bainton, he gave her an account of the passages betwixt him and the poor woman, with which she was so affected that she went next day to Salisbury, and there bought a pair of blankets, and sent them as a token of her love to the poor woman, and with a message " that she would see and be acquainted with her when her house was built at Bemerton." There be many such passages both of him and his wife, of which some few will be related ; but I shall first tell that he hasted to get the parish church repaired ; then to beautify the chapel (which stands near his house}, and that at his own great charge. He then proceeded to rebuild the greatest part of the parsonage house, * Minal, or Mildenhall, is near Marlborough. 28 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. which he did also very completely, and at his own charge ; and having done this good work, he caused these verses to be writ upon, or engraven in, the mantel of the chimney in his lull : TO MY SUCCESSOE. If thou chance for to find A new house to thy mind, And built without thy cost ; Be good to the poor, As God gives thee store, And then my labour 's not lost. We will now, by the reader's favour, suppose him fixed at Bemerton, and grant him to have seen the church repaired, and the chapel belonging to it very decently adorned, at his own great charge (which is a real truth), and having now fixed him there, I shall proceed to give an account of the rest of his behavioui' both to his parishioners and those many others that knew and conversed with him. Doubtless Mr. Herbert had considered and given rules to himself for his Christian carriage both to God and man before he entered into holy orders. And it is not unlike but that he renewed those resolutions at his prostration before the holy altar, at his induction into the church of Bemerton ; but as yet he was but a deacon, and therefore longed for the next Ember Week, that he might be ordained priest, and made capable of administering both vthe sacraments. At which time the Rev. Dr Humphrey Henchman, now Lord Bishop of London (who does not mention him but with some veneration for his life and excellent learning?), tells me, he laid his hand on Mr. Herbert's head, and, alas ! within less than three years lent his shoulder to cany his dear friend to his grave. And that Mr. Herbert might the better preserve th9se holy rules which such a priest as he intended to be ought to observe ; and that time might not insensibly blot them out of his memory, but that the next year might show him his variations from this year's resolutions J he therefore did set down his rules, then resolved upon, in that order as the world now sees them printed in a little book called " The Country Parson,"* in which some of his rules are : * Contained in this volume, LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 29 The Parson's Knowledge. The Parson Arguing. The Parson on Sundays. TJie Parson Condescending. The Parson Praying. The Parson in his Journey. Thg Parson Preaching. The Parson in his Mirth. The Parson's Charity. The Parson with his Chtirch- The Parson comforting the wardens. Sick. The Parson Blessing the People. And his behaviour toward God and man may be said to be a 'practical comment on these and the other holy rules set down in that useful book ; a book so full of plain, prudent, and useful rules, that that country parson, that can spare twelve pence and yet wants it, is scarce excusable ; 'because it will both direct him what he ought to do, and convince him for not having done it. At ihe death of Mr. Herbert this book fell, into the hands of his friend Mr. Woodnot; and he commended it into the trusty hands of Mr. Barnabas Oley, who published it with a most con- scientious and excellent preface ; from which I have had some of those truths that are related in this life of Mr. Herbert, ,The text for his first sermon was taken out of Solomon's Proverbs, and the words were,- " Keep thy heart with all diligence." In which first sermon he gave his parishioners many necessary, holy, safe rules for the discharge of a good conscience both to God and man, and delivered his sermon after a most florid manner, both with great learning and eloquence. But, at the close of this sermon, told them, " That should not be his constant way of preaching ; for since Almighty God does not intend to lead men to heaven by hard questions, he would not therefore fill their heads with un- necessary notions ; but that for their sakes his language and his expressions should be more plain and practical in his future sermons." And he then made it his humble request, that they would be constant to the afternoon's service and catechizing, and showed thern convincing reasons why he desired it; and his obliging example and persuasions brought them to a willing conformity with his desires. The texts for all his future sermons (which God knows were not ras-nfj were constantly taken out of the Gospel for the day ; and he did as constantly declare why the Church did appoint that 30 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. portion of Scripture to be that day read, and in what manner the collect for every Sunday does refer to the Gospel or to the Epistle then read to them ; and, that they might pray with understanding, he did usually take occasion to explain, not only the collect for every particular Sunday, but' the reasons of all the other collects and responses in our Church service ; and made it appear to them that the whole service of the Church was a reasonable, and there- fore an acceptable sacrifice to God; as, namely, that we begin with confession of ourselves to be vile, miserable sinners ; and that we begin so because, till we have confessed ourselves to be such, we are not capable of that mercy which we acknowledge we need and pray for; but having, in the prayer of our Lord, begged pardon for those sins which we have confessed, and hoping that as the priest hath declared our absolution, so by our public confession and real repentance we have obtained that pardon j then we dare and do proceed to beg of the Lord to open our lips, that our mouths may show forth His praise ; for, till then, we are neither able nor worthy to praise Him. But this being supposed, we are then fit to say, "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost ; " and fit to proceed to a further service of our God, in ^he collects, and psalms, and lauds that follow in the service. And as to these psalms and lauds, he proceeded to inform them why they were so often, and some of them daily, repeated in our Church service, namely, the psalms every month, because they be an historical and thankful repetition of mercies past, and such a composition of prayers and praises as ought to be repeated ofteil and publicly ; for with such sacrifices God is honoured and well pleased. This for the psalms. And for the hymns and lauds, appointed to be daily repeated or sung after the first and second lessons are read to the congrega- tion, he proceeded to inform them that it was most reasonable, after they have heard the will and goodness of God declared' or preached by the priest in his reading the two chapters, that it was then a seasonable duty to rise up and express their gratitude to Almighty God for those His mercies to them and to all mankind ; and then to say with the blessed Virgin, that their souls do magnify the Lord, and that their spirits do also rejoice in God their Saviour. And that it was their duty also to rejoice with Simeon in his song. LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 31 and say^with liim, that their eyes have also seen their salvation ; for they have seen that salvation which was but prophesied till his time, and he then broke out into those expressions of joy that he did see it ; but they live to see it daily in the history of it, and therefore ought daily to rejoice, and daily to offer up, their sacri- fices of praise to their God for that particular mercy^^a service which is now the constant employment of that blessed Virgin, and Simeon, and all those blessed saints that are possessed of heaven, and where they are at this time interchangeably and constantly singing, " Holy, holy, holy. Lord God, glory be to God on high, and on earth peace ! " And he taught them that to do this was an acceptable service to God ; because the prophet David says in his psalms, " He that praiseth the Lord honoureth Him." He made them to understand how happy they be that are freed from the incumbrances of that law which our forefathers groaned under, namely, from the legal sacrifices and from the many cere- monies of the Levitical law — freed from circumcision, and from the strict observation of the Jewish Sabbath, and the like. And he made them to know that having received so many and so great blessings by being bom since the days of our Saviour, it must be ^ an acceptable sacrifice to Almighty God for them to acknowledge those blessings daily, and stand up and worship, and say as Zacha- rias did, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, fpr he hath (in our days) visited and redeemed His people ; and (He hath in our days) remembered and showed that mercy, which by the mouth of the prophets He promised to our forefathers ; and this He hath done according to His holy covenant made with them." And he made them to understand that we live to see and enjoy the benefit of it in His birth. His Hfe, His passion. His resurrection, and ascension into heaven, where He now sits, sensible of all our temptations and infirmities, and where He is at this present time making interces- sion for us to His and our Father; and therefore 'they ought daily to express their public gratulations, and say daily with Zacharias, " Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, that hath thus visited and thus redeemed His people." These were some of the reasons by which Mr. Herbert instructed his congregation for the use of the psalms and the hymns appointed to be daily sung orgaid in the Church service. 32 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. He informed them also when the priest did pray only for the congregation and not for himself; and when they did only pray for him \ as, namely, after the repetition of the creed, before he pro- ceeds to pray the Lord's prayer, or any of the appointed collects, the priest is directed to kneel down and pray for them, saying, " The Lord be with you ; " and when they pray for him, saying, "And with Thy Spirit ; " and then they join together in the follow- ing collects. And he assured them that when there is such mutual love, and such joint prayers offered for each other, then the holy angels look down from heaven, and are ready to carry such chari- table desires to God Almighty, and He as ready to receive them ; and that a Christian congregation calling thus upon God with one heart and one voice, and in one reverent and humble posture, look as beautiful as Jerusalem that is at peace with itself. He instructed them also why the prayer of our Lord was prayed often in every full service of the Church, namely, at the conclusion of the several parts of that service ; and prayed then, not only be- cause it was composed and commanded by our Jesus that made it, but as a perfect pattern for our less perfect forms of prayer, and therefore fittest to sum up and conclude all our imperfect petitions. He instructed them also that, as by the second commandment we are required not to bow down or worship an idol or false god, so, by the contrary rule, we are to bow down and kneel, or stand up, and worship the true God. And he instructed them why the Church required the congregation to stand up at the repetition , of the creeds, namely, because they did thereby declare both their obedience to the Church, and an assent to that faith into which they had been baptized. And he taught them that in that shorter creed or doxology, so often repeated daily, they also stood up to testify their belief to be that the God that they trusted in was one God and three Persons — the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost —to whom they and the priest gave glory. And because there had been heretics that had denied some of these three Persons to be God, therefore the congregation stood up and honoured Him by confessing, and saying, " It was so in the beginning, is now so, and shall ever be so world without end," And all gave their assent to this belief by standing up,* and saying, " Amen." * Previous to the restoration of Charles II., during the reading of the psalms, thei 1.1 FE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 33 He instructed them also what benefit they had by the Church's appointing the celebration of holy days, and the excellent use of them, namely, that they were set apart for particular commemora- tions of particular mercies received from Almighty God, and (as Reverend Mr. Hooker says) to be the landmarks to distinguish times j for by them we are taught to take notice how time passes by us, and that we ought not to let the year pass without a celebra- tion of praise for those mercies which those days give us occasion to remember; and therefore they were to note that the year is appointed to begin the 25th day of March,* a day in which we commemorate the angel's appearing to the blessed Virgin, with the joyful tidings that she should conceive and bear a Son that should be the Redeemer of mankind. And she did so forty weeks after this joyful salutation, namely, at our Christmas- — a day in which we commemorate His birth with joy and praise ; and that eight days after this happy birth we celebrate His circumcision, namely, in that which we call New Year's Day. And that, upon that day which we call Twelfth Day, we commemorate the manifes- tation of the unsearchable riches of Jesus to the Gentiles ; and that that day we also celebrate the memory of His goodness in send- ing a star to guide the three wise men from the east to Bethlehem, that they might there worship and present Him with their oblations of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And he (Mr. Herbert) instructed them, that Jesus was forty days after His birth presented by His blessed mother in the Temple, namely, on that day which we call The Purification of the Blessed Virgin St. Mary. And he in- structed them that by the Lent fast we imitate and commemorate our Saviour's humiliation in fasting forty days, and that we ought to endeavour to be like Him in purity. And that on Good Friday we commemorate and condole His crucifixion ; and at Easter com- memorate His glorious resurrection. And he taught them that after Jesus had manifested Himself to His disciples to be that Christ that was crucified, dead, and buried ; and by His appearing minister stood while the people sat — the latter, however, rising at the doxology. — {J'rom Messrs. Bell & Daldy's Edition of " Herbert"). In the present day the con- gregation rise also at the doxology after the sermon ; at one period they knelt. * New Year's day was the 25'^ of March till the reign of George II., when in 1732 it was changed to the ist of January. It is still the first day of the ecclesias- tical year. 3. 34 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. and conversing with His disciples for the space of forty days after His resurrection, He then, and not till then, ascended into heaven., in the sight of those disciples, namely, on that day which we call the Ascension, or Holy Thursday. And that we then celebrate the performance of the promise which He made to His disciples at or before His ascension, namely, that though He left them, yet He would send them the Holy Ghost to be their Comforter ; and that He did so on that day which the Church calls Whit Sunday. Thus the Church keeps an historical and circular commemoration of times as they pass by us— of such times as ought to incline us to occasional praises for the particular blessings which we do or might receive by those holy commemorations. He made them know also why the Church hath appointed Ember Weeks ; and to know the reason why the commandments, and the episdes, and gospels were to be read at the altar or com- munion table ; why the priest was to pray the Litany kneeling, and why to pray some collects standing. And he gave them many other observations fit for his plain congregation, but not fit for me now to mention, for I must set limits to my pen, and not make that a treatise whicli I intended to be a much shorter account than I have made it :— But I Have done, when I have told the reader that he was constant in catechizing every Sunday in the afternoon, and that his catechizing was after his second lesson, and in the pulpit ; and that he never exceeded his half-hour, and was always so happy as to have an obedient and a full congregation. And to this I must add that if he were at any time too zealous in his sermons, it was m reproving the indefcencies of the people's behaviour in the time of divine service, and of those ministers that huddled up the Church prayers without a visible reverence and affection, namely, such as seemed to say the Lord's Prayer or collect in a breath ; but for himself, his custom was to stop betwixt every collect, and give the people time to consider what they had prayed, and to force their desires affectionately to God before he engaged them into new petitions. And by this account of his diligence to make his parishioners understand what they prayed, and why they praised and adored their Creator, I hope I shall the more easily obtain the reader's belief to the following account of Mr. Herbert's own practice LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 35 which was to appear constantly with his wife and three nieces (the daughters of a deceased sister) and his whole family twice every day at the church prayers in the chapel which does almost join to his parsonage house. And for the time of his appearing, it was strictly at the canonical hours of ten and four \ and then and there he lifted up pure and charitable hands to God in the midst of the congregation. And he would joy to have spent that time in that place where the honour of his Master Jesus dwelleth ; and there, by that inward devotion which he testified constantly by an humble behaviour and visible adoration, he, like Joshua, brought not only his own household thus to serve the Lord, but brought most of his parishioners and many gentlemen in the neighbourhood, constandy to make a part of his congregation twice a day j and some of the meaner sort of his parish did so love and reverence Mr. Herbert, that they would let their plough rest when Mr. Herbert's saints' bell rung to prayers, that they might also offer their devotions to God with him, and. would then return back to their plough. And his most holy life was such, that it begot such reverence to God and to him, that they thought themselves the happier when they carried Mr. Herbert's blessing back with them to their labour. Thus powerful was his reason and example, to persuade others to a practical piety and devotion. And his constant public prayers did never make hiih to neglect his own private devotions, nor those prayers that he thought himself bound to perform with his family, which always were a set form and not long ; and he did always conclude them with that collect which the Church hath appointed for the day or week. Thus he made every day's sanctity a step towards that kingdom where impurity cannot enter. His chiefest recreation was music, in which heavenly art he was a most excellent master, and did himself compose many divine hymns and anthems, which he set and sung to his lute or viol; and though he was a lover of retiredness, yet his love to music was such, that he went usually twice every week on certain, appointed days to the cathedral church in Salisbury ; and at his return would say, that his time spent in prayer and cathedral music elevated his soul, and was his heaven upon earth. But before his return thence to Bemerton, he would usually sing and play his part at an 3—2 36 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. appointed private music meeting ; and, to justify this practice, he would often say, religion does not banish mirth, but only moderates and sets rules to it. And as his desire to enjoy his heaven upon earth drew him twice every week to Salisbury, so his walks thither were the occasion of many happy accidents to others, of which I will mention some few. In one of his walks to Salisbury, he overtook a gentleman that is still living in that city, and in their walk together Mr. Herbert took a fair occasion to talk with him, and humbly begged to be excused if he asked him some account of his faith ; and said, " I do this the rather because though you are not of my parish, yet I receive tithe from you by the hand of your tenant ; and, sir, I am the bolder to do it, because I know there be some sermon hearers that be like those fishes that always live in salt water, and yet are always fresh." After which expression Mr. Herbert asked him some needful questions, and having received his answer, gave him such rules for the trial of his sincerity, and for a practical piety, and in so loving and meek a manner, that the gentleman did so fall in love with him and his discourse, that he would often contrive to meet him in his walk to Salisbury, or to attend him back to Bemerton, and still mentions the name of Mr. George Herbert with veneration, and still praiseth God for the occasion of knowing him. ■ In another of his Salisbury walks he met with a neighbour minister, and after some friendly discourse betwixt them, and some condolement for the decay of piety, and too general contempt of the clergy, Mr. Herbert took occasion to say, " One cure for these distempers would be for the clergy themselves to keep the Ember Weeks strictly, and beg of their parishioners to join with them in fasting and prayers for a more religious clergy. And another cure would be for themselves to restore the great and neglected duty of catechizing, on which the salvation of so many of the poor and ignorant lay people does depend; but principally that the clergy themselves would be sure to live unblamably; and that the dignified clergy especially, which preach temperance; would avoid surfeiting, and take all occasions to express a visible humility and charity in their lives ; for this would force a love and an imitation, and an unfeigned reverence from all that knew them to be such." LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 37 (And for proof of this we need no other testimony than the life and death of Dr. Lake, late Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells.) "This,'' said Mr. Herbert, "would be a cure for' the wickedness and growing atheism of our age. And, my dear brother, till this be done by us, and done in earnest, let no man expect a reformation of the manners of the laity ; for it is not learning, but this, this only, that must do it ; and till then the fault must lie at our doors." In another walk to Salisbury he saw a poor man with a poorer horse that was fallen under his load ; they were both in distress, and needed present help, which Mr. Herbert perceiving, put off his canonical coat, and helped the poor man to unload, and after to load his horse. The poor man blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man ; and was so like the good Samaritan, that he gave him money to refresh both himself and his horse, and told him, that if he loved himself, he should be merciful to liis beast. Thus he left the poor man, and at his coming to his musical friends at Salisbury, they began to wonder that Mr. George Herbert, who used to be so trirti and clean, came into that company so soiled and discomposed ; but he told them the occasion ; and when one of the company told him he had disparaged himself by so dirty an employment, his answer was, that the thought of what he had done would prove music to him at midnight, and that the omission of it would have upbraided and made discord in his conscience, whensoever he should pass by that place. " For if I be bound to pray for all that be in distress, I am sure that I am bound, so far as it is in my power, to pract'se what I pray for. And though I do not wish for the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you, I would not willingly pass one day of my life without comforting a sad soul, or showing mercy ; and I praise God for this occasion. And now let us tune our instruments." Thus as our blessed Saviour, after His resurrection, did take occasion to interpret the Scripture to Cleopas and that other disciple which He met with and accompanied in their journey to Emmaus ; so Mr. Herbert, in his path toward heaven, did daily take any fair occasion to instruct the ignorant, or comfort any that were in affliction ; and did always confirm his precepts by showing humility and mercy, and ministering grace to the hearers. And he was most happy in his wife's unforced compliance with 38 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. his acts of charity, whom he made his almoner, ancj paid constantly into her hand a tenth penny of what money he received for tithe, and gave her power to dispose that to the poor of his parish, and with it a power to dispose a tenth part of the corn that came yearly into his barn ; which trust she did most faithfully perform, and would often offer to him an account of her stewardship, and as often beg an enlargeinent of his bounty ; for she rejoiced in the employment ; and this was usually laid out by her in blankets and shoes for some such poor people as she knew to stand in most need of them. This as to her charity. And for his own, he set no limits to it, nor did ever turn his face from any that he saw in want, but would relieve them, especially his poor neighbours; to the meanest of whose houses he would go, and inform himself of their wants, and reUeve them cheerfully if they were in distress; and would always praise God as much for being willing as for being able to do it. And when he was advised by a friend to be more frugal, because he might have children, his answer was, "he would not see the danger of want so far off; but being the Scripture does so commend charity as to tell us that charity is the top of Christian virtues, the covering of sins, the fulfilling of the law, the life of faith, and that charity hath a promise of the blessings of this life and of a reward in that life which is to come ; being these and more excellent things are in Scripture spoken of thee, O Charity! and that being all my tithes and church-dues are a deodate from Thee, O my God, make me, O my God, so far to trust Thy promise as to return them back to Thee ; and by Thy grace I will do so, in distributing them to any of Thy poor members that are in distress, or do but bear the image of Jesus my Master. Sir," said he to his friend, " my wife hath a competent maintenance secured her after my death, and therefore as this is my prayer, so this my resolution shall, by God's grace, be unalterable." This may be some account of the excellencies of the active part of his life; and thus he continued till a consumption so weakened him as to confine him to his house, or to the chapel which does almost join to it; in w'hich he continued to read prayers constantly twice every day, though he were very weak ; in one of which times' of his reading his wife observed him to read in pain, and told him so, and that it wasted his spirits and weakened him; and he LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 39 confessed it did, but said, his life could not be better spent than in the service of his Master Jesus, who had done and suffered so much for him. " But," said he, " I will not be wilful ; for though my spirit be willing, yet I find my flesh is weak ; and therefore Mr. Bostock shall be appointed to read prayers for me to-morrow, and I will now be only a hearer of them, till this mortal shall put on immortality." And Mr. Bostock did the next day undertalce and continue this happy employment till Mr. Herbert's death. This Mr. Bostock was a learned and virtuous man, an old friend of Mr. Herbert's, and then his curate to the church of Fulston, which is a mile from Bemerton, to which church Bemerton is but a chapel of ease. And this Mr. Bostock did also constantly supply the church service for Mr. Herbert in that chapel, when the music meeting at Salisbury caused his absence from it. About one month before his death, his friend Mr. Ferrar (for an account of whom I am by promise indebted to the reader, and in- tend to make him sudden payment) hearing of Mr. Herbert's sick- ness, sent Mr. Edmund Duncon (who is now Rector of Fryer Barnet, in the county of Middlesex) from his house of Gidden HeiII, which is near to Huntingdon, to see Mr. Herbert, and to assure him he wanted not his daily prayers for his recovery;* and Mr. The following was the -daily prayer offered up for George Herbert in Mr. Ferrar's family : " O most mighty God and merciful Father ! we most humbly beseech Thee, if it be Thy good pleasure to continue to us that singular benefit which Thou hast given us in the friendship of Thy servant, our dear brother, who now lieth on the bed of sickness, let hira abide with us yet awhile, for the furtherance of our faith. We have, indeed, deserved by ojir ingratitude, not only the loss of him, but what- ever other opportunities Thou hast given us for the attaihment of our salvation. We do not deserve to be heard in our supplications ; but Thy mercies are above .all Thy works. In consideration whereof we prostrate ourselves in all humble earnestness, beseeching Thee, if so it may seem good to Thy divine Majesty, that Thou wilt hear us in this, who hast heard us in all the rest, and that Thou wilt bring him back again from the gates of death ; that Thou wilt yet awhile spare him, that he may live to Thy honour and our comfort. Lord, Thou hast willed that our delights should be in the saints on earth, and in such as excel in virtue : how, then, should we not be afflicted aild mourn when Thou takest them away from us ? Thou hast made him a great help and furtherance of the best things amongst us : how, then , can we but esteem the loss of him a chastisement from Thy displeasure ? O Lord, we beseech Thee that it may not bo so I We beseech Thee, if it be Thy good pleasure, restore unto us our dear brother, by restoring to him his health ; so will we praise and magnify Thy name and mercy with a song of thanksgiving. Hear us, O Lord, for Thy dear Son's sake, Jesus Christ our Saviour. Amen." 40 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. Duncon was to return back to Gidden with an account of Mr. Her- bert's condition. Mr. Duncon found him weak, and at that time lying on his bed or on a pallet ; but at his seeing Mr. Duncon, he raised himself vigorously, saluted him, and with some earnestness inquired the health of his brother Ferrar, of which Mr. Duncon satisfied him ; and after some discourse of Mr. Ferrar's holy life, and the manner of his constant serving God, he said to Mr. Dun- con, " Sir, I see by your habit that you are a priest, and I desire you to pray with me ; '' which being granted, Mr. Duncon' asked him, " What prayers ? " to which Mr. Herbert's answer was,"" Oh, sir, the prayers of my mother, the Church of England. No other prayers are equal to them ! — but, at this time, I beg of you to pray only the Litany, for I am weak and faint ; " and Mr. Duncon did so. After which, and some other discourse of Mr. Ferrar, Mrs. Herbert provided Mr. Duncon a plain supper and a clean lodging, and he betook himself to rest. — This Mr. Duncon tells me ; and tells me that at his first view of Mr. Herbert, he saw majesty and humility so reconciled in his looks and behaviour, as begot in him an awful reverence for his person, and says, " his discourse was so pious, and his motion so genteel and meek, that after almost forty years, yet they remain still fresh in his memory." The next morning Mr. Duncon left him, and betook himself to a journey to Bath, but with a promise to return back to him within five days ; and he did so. But before I shall say anything of what discourse then fell betwixt them two, I will pay my promised account of Mr. Ferrar. Mr. Nicholas Ferrar (who got the reputation of being called St. Nicholas at the age of six years) was born in London, and doubt- less had good education in his youth ; but certainly was at an early age made Fellow of Clare Hall iii Cambridge, where he continued to be eminent for his piety, temperance,*"and learning. About the twenty-sixth year of .his age he betook himself to travel, in which he added to his Latin and Greek a perfect knowledge of all the languages spoken in the western parts of our Christian world, and understood well the principles of their religion, and of their manner, and the reasons of their worship. In this his travel he met with many persuasions to come into a communion with that Church which calls itself Catholic; but he returned from his travels as he. LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 41 went, eminent for his obedience to his mother, the Church of England. In his absence from England, Mr. Ferrar's father (who was a merchant) allowed him a liberal maintenance ; and, not long after his return into England, Mr. Ferrar had, by the death of his father, or an elder brother, or both, an estate left himj that enabled him to purchase land to the value of four or five hundred pounds a year, the greatest part of which land was at Little Gidden, four or six miles from Huntingdon, and about eighteen from Cambridge — which place he chose for the privacy of it, and for the hall, which had the parish church or chapel belonging and adjoining near to it ; for Mr. Ferrar having seen the manners and vanities of the world, and found them to be, as Mr. Herbert says, "a nothing between two dishes," did so contemn it, that he resolved to spend the remainder of his hfe in mortifications, and in devotion, and charity, and to be always prepared for death; and his life was spent thus : He and his family, which were like a little college, and about thirty in number, did most of them keep Lent and all Ember Weeks strictly, both in fasting and using all those mortifications and prayers that the Church hath appointed to be then used ; and he and they did the like constantly on Fridays, and on the vigils or eves appointed to be fasted before the saints' days; and this frugality and abstinence turned to the relief of the poor ; but this was but a part of his charity none but God and he knew the rest. This family, which I have said to be in number about thirty,\ were a part of them his kindred, and the rest chosen to be of a temper fit to be moulded into a devout life ; and all of them were for their dispositions serviceable, and quiet, and humble, and free from scandal. Having thus fitted himself for his family, he did, about the year 1630, betake himself to a constant and methodical service of God, and it was in this manner : He, being accompanied with most of his family, did himself use to read the Common Prayers (for he was a deacon) every day at the appointed hours of ten and four, in the parish church, which was very near his house, and which he had both repaired and adorned, for it was fallen into a great ruin, by reason of a depopulation of the village before Mr. Ferrar bought the manor. And he did also constantly read the matins every morning at the hour of six, either in the church or in 42 LIFE OP GEORGE HERBERT. an oratory which was within his own house; and many of the family did there continue with him after the prayers were ended, and there they spent some hours in singing hymns or anthems, sometimes in the church, and often to an organ in the oratory. And there they sometimes betook themselves to meditate, or to pray privately, or to read a part of the New Testament to themselves, or to continue their praying or reading the psalms ; and, in case the psalms were not always read in the day, then Mr. Ferrar, and others of the congregation, did at night, at the ring of a watch-bell, repair to the church or oratory, and there betake themselves to prayers and lauding God, and reading the psalms that had not been read in the day ; and when these, or any part of the congre- gation, grew weary or faint, the watch-bell was rung, sometimes- before and sometimes after midnight, and then another part of the family rose, and maintained the watch, sometimes by praying, or singing lauds to God or reading the psalms ; and when after some hours they also grew weary and faint, then they rung the watch- bell, and were also relieved by some of the former, or by a new part of the society, which continued their devotions (as hath been mentioned) until morning. And it is to be noted that in this con- tinued serving of God, the psalter, or whole book of psalms, was, in every four-and-twenty hours, sung or read over from the first to the last verse ; and this was done as constantly as the sun runs his circle every day about the world, and then begins again the same instant that it ended. Thus did Mr. Ferrar and his happy family serve God day and night : thus did they always behave themselves as in His presence! And they did always eat and drink by the strictest rules of tempe-'^ ranee ; eat and drink so as to be ready to rise at midnight, or at the call of a watch-bell, and perform their devotions to God. And it is tit to tell the reader that many of the clergy that were more inclined to practical piety and devotion than to doubtful and needless disputations, did often come to Gidden Hall, and make themselves a part of that happy society, and stay a week or more, and then join with Mr. Ferrar and the family in these devotions, and assist and ease him or them in the watch by night. And these various devotions had never less than two of the dpmestic family in the night; and the watch waa always kept in the church or Life of grorge Herbert. 43 oratory, unless in extreme cold winter nights, and then it was maintained in a parlour which had a fire in it, and the parlour was fitted for that purpose. And this course of piety, and great libe- rality to his poor neighbours, Mr. Ferrar maintained till his death, which was in the year 1639.* Mr. Ferrar's and Mr. Herbert's devout lives were both so noted that the general report of their sanctity gave them occasion to renew that slight acquaintance which was begun at their being contemporaries in Cambridge ; and this new holy friendship was long maintained without any interview, but only by loving and endearing letters. And one testimony of their friendship and pious designs may appear by Mr. Ferrar's commending "The Considerations of John Valdesso " (a book which he had met with in his travels, and translated out of Spanish into English) to be examined and censured by Mr. Herbert before itwas made public; which excellent book Mr. Herbert did read, and returned back with many marginal notes, as they be now printed with it; and with them Mr. Herbert's affectionate letter to Mr. Ferrar. This John Valdesso was a Spaniard, and was for his learning and virtue much valued and loved by the great Emperor,' Charles the Fifth, whom Valdesso had followed as a cavalier all the time of his long and dangerous wars ; and when Valdesso grew old, and grew weary both of war and the world, he took his fair opportunity to declare to the Emperor that his resolution was to decline his Majesty's service, and betake himself to a quiet and contemplative life, because there ought to be a vacancy of time betwixt fighting and dying. The Emperor had himself, for the same or other like reasons, put on the same resolution ; but God and himself did, till then, only know them ; and he did therefore desire Valdesso to consider well of what he had said, and to keep his purpose within his own breast till they two might have a second opportunity of a friendly discourse, which Valdesso promised to do. In the meantime the Emperor appoints privately a day for him and Valdesso to meet again, and after a pious and free discourse, they both agreed on a certain day to receive the blessed sacrament publicly, and appointed an eloquent and devout friar to preach a * Mr. Ferrar was buried at the western entrance of the church of Little Gidding. See note to Advertisement. 44 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. sermon of contempt of the world, and of the happiness and benefit of a contemplative life, which the friar did most affectionately. After which sermon the Emperor took occasion to declare openly, that the preacher had begot in him a resolution to lay down his dignities, and to forsake the world, and betake himself to a monastic life. And he pretended he had persuaded John Valdesso to do the-like ; but this is most certain, that after the Emperor had called his son Philip out of England, and resigned to him all his kingdoms, that then the Emperor and John Valdesso did perform their resolutions. This account of John Valdesso I received from a friend that had it from the mouth of Mr. Ferrar ; and the reader may note that in this retirement John Valdesso wrote his " Hundred and Ten Con- siderations," and many other treatises of worth, which want a second Mr. Ferrar to procure and translate them. After this account of Mr. Ferrar and John Valdesso, I proceed to my account of Mr. Herbert and Mr. Duncon, who, according to . his promise, returned from the Bath the fifth day, and then found Mr. Herbert much weaker than he left him ; and therefore their discourse could not be long ; but at Mr. Duncon's parting with him, Mr. Herbert spoke to this purpose : " Sir, I pray give my brother Ferrar an account of the decaying condition of my body, and tell him I beg him to continue his daily prayers for me ; and let him know that I have considered that God only is what He would be ; and that I am, by His grace, become now so like Him as to be pleased with what pleaseth Him ; and tell him that I do not repine, but am pleased with my want of health ; and tell him my heart is fixed on that place where true joy is only to be foundj; and that I long to be there, and do wait for my appointed change with hope and patience." Having said this, he did, with so sweet a humility as seemed to exalt ,him, bow down to Mr. Duncon, and? with a thoughtful and contented look, say to him, " Sir, I pray deliver this little book to my dear brother Ferrar, and tell him he shall find in it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have passed betwixt God and my soul, before I could subject mine to the will of Jesus my Master; in whose service I have now found perfect freedom; desire him to read it; and then, if he can think it may turn to the advantage of any dejected poor soul, let it be LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 45 made public ; if not, let him burn it ; for I and it are less than the least of God's mercies." Thus meanly did this humble man think of this excellent book, which now bears the name of "The Temple j or, Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations ; " of which Mr. Ferrar would say, there was in it the picture of a divine soul in every page ; and that the whole book was such a harmony of holy passions as would enrich the world with pleasure and piety. And it appears to have done so, for there have been more than twenty thousand of them sold since the first impression. And this ought to be noted that when Mr. Ferrar sent this book to Cambridge to be licenced for the press, the Vice-Chancellor would by no means allow the two so much noted verses — Religion stands a tiptoe in our land, Ready to pass to the American strand — to be printed ; and Mr. Ferrar would by no means allow the book to be printed and want them ; but after some time, and some argu- ments for and against their being made pubhc, the Vice-Chancellor said, "I knew Mr. Herbert well, and know that he had many heavenly speculations, and was a divine poet ; but I hope the world will not take him to be an inspired prophet, and therefore I licence the whole book.'' So that it came to be printed without the diminution or addition of a syllable since it was delivered into the hands of Mr. Duncon, save only that Mr. Ferrar hath added that excellent preface that is printed before it. At the time of Mr. Duncon's leaving Mr. Herbert (which was about three weeks before his death), his old and dear friend Mr. Woodnot came from London to Bemerton, and never left him till he had seen him draw his last breath, and closed his eyes on his death-bed. In this time of his decay he was often visited and prayed for by all the clergy that lived near to him, especially by his friends the Bishop and Prebendaries of the cathedral church in Salisbury, but by none more devoutly than his wife, his three nieces (then a part of his family), and Mr. Woodnot, who were the sad witnesses of his daily decay, to whom he would often speak to this purpose : " I now look back, upon the pleasures of my life past, and see the content I have taken in beauty, in wit, and musir, and pleasant conversation, are now all past by me like a dream, or as 46 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. a shadow that returns not, and are now all become dead to me, or I to them ; and I see that as my father and generation hath done before me, so I also shall now suddenly (wjth Job) make my bed also in the dark ; and I praise God I am prepared for it ; and I praise Him that I am not to learn patience now I stand in such need of itj and that I have practised mortification, and endeavoured to die daily that I might not die eternally ; and my hope is that I shall shortly leave this valley of tears, and be free from all fevers and pain ; and which will be a more happy condition, I shall be free from sin, and all the temptations and anxieties that attend it ; and this being past, I shall dwell in the new Jerusalem — dwell there with men made perfect ; dwell where these eyes shall see my Master and Saviour Jesus, and with Him see my dear mother, and all my relations and friends. But I must die, or not come to that happy place. And this is my content, that I am going daily to- wards it ; and that every day which I have lived hath taken a part of my appointed time frdm me ; and that I shall live the less time for having lived this and the day past." These and the like expressions, which he uttered often, may be said to be his enjoyment of heaven before he enjoyed it. The Sunday before his death, he rose suddenly from his bed or couchj called for one of his instrunients, took it into his hand, and said, f My God, my God ! My music shall find Thee, And ev'iy string Shall have his attribute to sing. And having tuned it, he played and sang : The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on Time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal glorious King ; On Sundays heaven's door stands ope ; Blessings are plentiful, and rife More plentiful than hope.* Thus he sang on earth such hymns and anthems as the angels/^ and he, and Mr. Ferrar now sing in heaven. I Thus he continued meditating, and praying, and rejoicing till • See the whole hymn, entitled "Sunday," in the Poems. LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 47 the day of his death j and on that day said to Mr. Woodnot, " My dear friend, I am sorry I have nothing to present to my merciful God but sin and misery ; but the first is pardoned, and a few hours will now put a period to the latter, for I shall suddenly go hence, and be no more seen." Upon which expression Mr. Woodnot took occasion to remember him of the re-edifying Layton Church, and his many acts of mercy ; to which he made answer, saying, " They be good works if they be sprinkled with the blood of Christ, and not otherwise." After this discourse he became more restless, and his soul seemed to be weary of her earthly tabernacle ; and this uneasiness became so visible, that his wife, his three nieces, and Mr. Woodnot stood constantly about his bed, beholding him with sorrow, and an un- willingness to lose the sight of him whom they could not hope to see much longer. As they stood thus beholding him, his wife observed him to breathe faintly and with much trouble; and observed him to fall into a sudden agony, which so surprised her, that she fell into a sudden passion, and required of him to know how he did ; to which his answer was, " That he had passed a conflict with his last enemy, and he had overcome him by the merits of his Master Jesus." After which answer he looked up and saw his wife and nieces weeping to an extremity, and charged them, " If they loved him, to withdraw into the next room, and there pray every one alone for him ; for nothing but their lament- ations could make his death uncomfortable." To which request their sighs and tears would not suffer them to make any reply, but they yielded him a sad obedience, leaving only with him Mr. Woodnot and Mr. Bostock. Immediately after they had left himi he said to Mr. Bostock, " Pray, sir, open that door ; then look into that cabiijet, in which you may easily find my last vidll, and give it into my hand : " which being done, Mr. Herbert delivered it into the hand of Mr. Woodnot, and said, " My old friend, I here deliver you my last will^ in which you will find that I have made you my sole executor for the good of my wife and nieces ; and I desire you to show kindness to them, as they shall need it. I do not desire you to be just, for I know you will be so for your own sake; but I charge you, by the religion of our friendship, to be careful of them." And having obtained Mr. Woodnot's promise 48 'LiFB OF GEORGE HERBERT. to be SO, he said, " I am now ready to die." After which words he said, "Lord, forsake me not, now my strength faileth me, but grant me mercy for the merits of my Jesus. And now, Lord- Lord, now receive my soul." And with those words he breathed forth his divine soul without any apparent disturbance. Mr. Woodnot and Mr. Bostock attending his last breath, and closing his eyes. Thus he lived, and thus he died like a saint, unspotted of the world, full of alms-deeds, full of humility, and all the examples of a virtuous life ; which I carinot conclude better than with this borrowed observation : All must to their cold graves ; But the religious actions of the just Smell sweet in death, and blossom in the dust.' Mr. George Herbert's have done so to this, and will doubtless do so to succeeding generations. I have but this to say more of him, that if Andrew Melvin died before him, then GeOrge Herbert died without an enemy. I wish (if God shall be so pleased) that I may be so happy as to die like him. Iz. Wa. There is a debt justly due to the memory of Mr. Herbert's virtu- ous wife, a part of which I will endeavour to pay by a very short account of the remainder of her life, which shall follow. She continued his disconsolate widow about six years, bemoan^ ing herself and complaining that she had lost the delight of her eyes ; but more, that she had lost the spiritual guide for her poor soul ; and would often say, " Oh that I had, like holy Mary, the mother of Jesus, treasured up all his sayings in my heart ! but since I have not been able to do that, I will labour to live like him, that * By James Shirley, the great dramatist, born 1594. He and his wife died from the effects of grief and terror after the great Fire of London, within twenty-four hours of each other, and were buried in the same grave. UFE OF GEORGE HERBERT. 49 where he now is, I may be also." And she would often say (as the prophet David for his son Absalom), " O that I had died for him ! " Thus she continued mourning, till time and conversation had so moderated her sorrows, that she became the happy wife of Sir Robert Cook, of Highnam, in the county of Gloucester, Knt. j and though he put a high value on the excellent accomplishments of her mind and body, and was so like Mr. Herbert as not to go- vern like a master, but as an affectionate husband ; yet she would, even to him, often take occasion to mention the name of Mr. George Herbert, and say, " That name must liye in her memory tUl she put off mortality." By Sir Robert she had only one child, a daughter, whose parts and plentiful estate make her happy in this world, and her well using of them gives a fair testimony that she will be so in that which is to come. Mrs. Herbert was the wife of Sir Robert eight years, and lived his widow about fifteen ; all which time she took a pleasure in mentioning and commending the excellences of Mr. George Her- bert. She died in the year 1663, and lies buried at Highnam; Mr. Herbert in his own church, under the altar, and covered with a gravestone without any inscription. This Lady Cook had preserved many of Mr. Herbert's private writings, which she intended to make public ; but they and High- nam House were burnt together by the late rebels, and so lost to posterity. I. W. )ll Itlltplf. \}ft ®^mjtJf+ Lord, my first fruits present themselyes to Thee ; Yet not mine neither ; for from Thee they came, And must return. Accept of them and me, And make us strive, who shall sing best Thy Name. Turn Iheir eyes hither, who shall make a gain ; Theirs, who shall hurt themselves or me, refrain. 1|b §\ntit\ fttit\. PERIRRHANTERIUM. HOU, whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure, Hearken unto a verser, who may chance Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure : A verse may find him who a sermon flies. And turn delight into a sacrifice. Beware of lust ; it doth pollute and foul Whom God in baptism washed with His own blood ; 53 54 THE TEMPLE. It blots the lesson written in thy soul ; The holy lines cannot be understood. How dare those eyes upon a Bible look, Much less towards God, whose lust is all their book ? Wholly abstain, or wed. Thy bounteous Lord Allows thee choice of paths : take no bye-ways; But gladly welcome what He doth afford ; Not grudging that thy lust 'hath bounds and, stays. Continence hath his joy : weigh both ; and so If rottenness have more, let heaven go. If God had laid all common, certainly Man would have been th' encloser ; but since now God hath impaled us, on the contrary Man breaks the fence, and ev'ry ground will plough. O what were man, might he himself misplace ! Sure to be cross* he would shift feet and face. Drink not the third glass, which thou canst not tame When once it is within thee ; but before Mayst rule it as thou list, and pour the shame, Which it would pour on thee, upon the floor. It is most just to throw that on the ground Which would throw me there, if I keep the round. ;: He that is drunken may his mother kill Big with his sister : he hath lost the reins. Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill Did with his liquor slide into his veins. The drunkard forfeits Man, and doth divest All worldly right, save what he hath by beast. Shall I, to please another's wine-sprung m~ind. Lose all mine o^vn? God hath giv'n me a measure *,For the sake of contradiction. THE TEMPLE. 55 Short of his can, and body ; must I find A pain in that wherein he finds a pleasure ? Stay at the third glass : if thou lose thy hold, Then thou art modest, and the wine grows bold. If reason move not gallants, quit the room — All in a shipwreck shift their several way — Let not a common ruin thee intomb : Be not a beast in courtesy, but stay — Stay at the third cup, or forego the place. Wine, above all things, doth God's stamp deface. Yet, if thou sin in wine or wantonness, Boast not thereof, nor make thy shame thy glory. Frailty gets pardon by submissiveness ; But he that boasts, shuts that out of his story : He makes flat war with God, and doth defy ' With his poor clod of earth the spacious sky. Take not His name, who made thy mouth, in vain : It gets thee nothing, and hath no excuse. Lust and wine plead a pleasure ; avarice gain ; But the cheap swearer through his open sluice Lets. his soul run for nought, as little fearing: Were I an epicure, I could bate swearing. When thou dost tell another's jest, therein Omit the oaths, which true wit cannot need ; Pick out of tales the mirth, but not the sin. He pares his apple that will cleanly feed. Play not away the virtue of that Name, Which is thy best stake, ^hen griefs make thee tame. The cheapest sins most dearly punished are. Because to shun them also is so cheap ; 56 THE TEMPLE. For we have wit to mark them, and to spare. O crumble not away thy soul's fair heap ! If thou wilt die, the gates of hell are broad : Pride and full sins have made the way a road. Lie not ; but let thy heart be true to God, Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both : Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod ; The stormy working soul spits lies and froth. Dare to be true. Nothing can need a lie : A fault, which needs it most, grows two thereby. Fly idleness, which yet thou canst not fly By dressing, mistressing, and compliment. If those take up thy day, the sun will cry Against thee ; for his light was only lent. God gave thy soul brave wings j put not those- feathers Into a bed, to sleep out all ill weathers. Art thou a magistrate ? then be severe ; If studious, copy fair what Time hath blurred ; Redeem truth from his jaws. If soldier, Chase brave employments with a naked sword Throughout the world. Fool not j for all may have, If they dare try, a glorious life or grave. O England ! full of sin, but most of sloth, . Spit out thy phlegm, and fill thy breast with glory ! Thy gentry bleats, as if thy native cloth Transfused a sheepishness into thy story : Not that they all are so ; but that the most Are gone to grass, and in the pasture lost. This loss springs chiefly from our education. Some till their ground, but let weeds choke their son ; THE TEMPLE. 57 Some mark a partridge, never their child's fashion ; Some ship thern over, and the thing is done. Study this art — make it thy great design ; And if God's image move thee not, let thine. Some great estates provide, but do not breed A mastering mind j so both are lost thereby : Or else they breed them tender, make them need All that they leave : this is flat poverty. For he that needs five thousand pound to live . Is full as poor as he that needs but five. The way to make thy son rich is to fill His mind with rest, before his trunk with riches; For wealth without contentment climbs a hill. To feel those tempests which fly over ditches. But if thy son can make ten pound his measure. Then all thou addest may be called his treasure. When thou dost purpose aught (within thy power). Be sure to do it, though it be but small : Constancy knits the bones, and makes us stour When wanton pleasures beckon us to thrall. Who breaks his own bond, forfeiteth himself: What nature made a ship, he makes a shelf. Do all things like a man, not sneakingly : Think the king sees thee still ; for his King does. Simpering is but a lay hypocrisy ; Give it a corner, and the clue* undoes. Who fears to do ill ,sets himself to task : Who fears to do well, sure should wear a mask. * A clue is the end of thread made into a ball, which, if pulled, unwinds ; i.e., the slightest hitch betrays hypocrisy. S8 THE TEMPLE. Look to thy mouth : diseases enter there. Thou hast two sconces,* if thy stomach call ; Carve, or discourse ; do not a famine fear. Who carves, is kind to two — who talks, to all. I^ook on meat, think it dirt, then eat a bit : And say withal, " Earth to eartli I commit," Slight those who say amidst their sickly healths. Thou liv'st by rule. What doth not so but man ? Houses are built by rule, and commonwealths. Entice the trusty sun, if that you can. From his ecliiatic line — beckon the sky. Who lives by rule, then, keeps good company. Who keeps no guard upon himself is slack. And rots to nothing at the next great thaw. Man is a shop of rules, a well-trussed pack, VVhose every parcel underwrites a law. Lose not thyself, nor give thy humours way : God gave them to thee under lock and key. By all means use sometimes to be alone. Salute thyself : see what thy soul doth wear. Dare to look in thy chest, for 't is thine own, And tumble up and down whaj: thou find'st there. Who cannot rest till he' good fellows find. He breaks up house, turns out of doors his mind. Be thrifty, but not covetous : therefore give Thy need, thine honour, and thy friend his due. Never was scraper brave man. Get to live ; Then live, and use it ; else it is not true » Bulwarks,— cMving and talking to others. THE TEMPLE. 59 Tliat thou hast gotten. Surely use alone ~ Makes money not a contemptible stone. Never exceed thy income. Youth may make Ev'n with the year ; but age, if it will hit, Shoots a bow short, and lessens still his stake, As the day lesse.ns, and his life with it. Thy children, kindred, friends upon thee call • Before thy journey fairly part with all. Yet in thy thriving still misdoubt some evil ; Lest gaining gain on thee, and make thee dim To all things else. Wealth is the conjuror's devil — Whom, when he thinks he hath, the devil hath him. Gold thou mayst safely touch ; but if it stick Unto thy hands, it woundeth to the quick. What skills it, if a bag of stones or gold About thy neck do drown thee ? Raise thy head ; Take stars for money — stars not to be told By any art, yet to be purchased. None is so wasteful as the scraping dame : She loseth three for one — her soul, rest, fame. By no means nin in debt : take thine own measure. Who cannot live on twenty pound a year, Cannot on forty : he 's a man of pleasure — A kind of thing that 's for itself too dear. The curious unthrift makes his cloth too wide. And spares himself, but would his tailor chide. Spend not on hopes. They that by pleading clothes Do fortunes seek, when worth and service fail. Would have their tale believed for their oaths, And are like empty vessels under sail. 6o THE TEMPLE. Old courtiers know this ; therefore set out so As all the day thou mayst hold out to go. In clothes, cheap handsomeness doth bear the bell. Wisdom 's a trimmer thing than shop e'er gave. Say not, then, " This with that lace will do well ; " But, " This with my discretion will be brave." Much curiousness is a perpetual wooing, Nothing with labour, folly long a- doing. Play not for gain, but sport. Who plays for more Than he can lose with pleasure, stakes his heart : Perhaps his wife's too, and whom she hath bore ; Servants and churches also play their part. Only a herald, who that way doth pass. Finds his cracked name at length in the church glass. If yet thou love game at so dear a rate, Learn this, that hath old gamesters dearly cost : Dost lose ? rise up : dost win ? rise in that state. Who strive to sit out losing hands are lost, Game is a civil gunpowder — in peace Blowing up houses with their whole increase. In conversation boldness now bears sway. But know, that nothing can so foolish be As empty boldness ; therefore, first assay To stuff thy mind with solid bravery ; Then march on gallant : get substantial worth : Boldness gilds finely, and will set it forth. Be sweet to all. Is thy complexion* sour? Then keep such company : make them thy allay :+ * Disposition. t Check. THE' TEMPLE. 6 1 Get a sharp wife, a servant that will lour. A stumbler stumbles least in rugged way. Command thyself in chief. He life's war knows Whom all his passions follow, as he goes. Catch not at quarrels. He that dares not speak Plainly and home is coward of the two. Think not thy fame at every twitch will break : By great deeds show that thou canst Httle do ; - And do them not : that shall thy wisdom be ; And change thy temperance into bravery. If that thy fame with every toy be posed,* 'T is a thin web, which poisonous fancies make ; But the great soldier's honour was composed Of thicker stuff, which would endure a shake. Wisdom picks friends ; civility plays the rest. A toy shunned cleanly passeth with the best. Laugh not too much : the witty man laughs least ; For wit is news only to ignorance. Less at thine own things laugh, lest in the jest Thy person share, and the conceit advance. Make not thy sport abuses ; for the fly That feeds on dung, is coloured thereby. Pick out of mirth, like stones out of thy ground, Profaneness, filthiness, abusiveness : These are the scum with which coarse wits abound : The fine may spare these well, yet not go less. All things are big with jest : nothing that 's plain But may be witty, if thou hast the vein. » Brought to a standstill. 62 THE TMMPLB. Wit's an unruly engine, wildly striking Sometimes a friend, sometimes the engineer : Hast thou the knack ? pamper it not with liking : But if thou want it, buy it not too dear. Many affecting wit beyond their power. Have got to be a dear fool for an hour. A sad wise valour is the brave complexion That leads the van, and swallows up the cities. The giggler is a milkmaid, whom infection Or a iired beacon frighteth from Ms ditties. Then he 's the sport : the mirth then in him rests. And the sad man is cock of all his jests. Towards great persons use respective boldness : That temper gives them theirs, and yet doth take Nothing from thine : in service, care or coldness Doth ratably thy fortunes mar or make. Feed no man in his sins ; for adulation Doth make thee parcel-devil in damnation. Envy not greatness ; for thou makest thereby Thyself the wotse, and so the distance greater. B°. not thine own worm ; yet such jealousy As hurts not others, but may make thee better, Is a good spur. Correct thy passion's spite ; Then may the beasts* draw thee to happy light. - When baseness is exalted, do not bate The place its honour for the person's sake. The shrine is that which thou dost venerate. And not the beast that bears it on his back. * The animal passions sanctified and ruled. THE TEMPLE. 63 I care not though the cloth of State should be Not of rich arras, but mean tapestry. Thy friend put in thy bosom : wear his eyes Still in thy heart, that he may see what 's there. If cause require, thou art his sacrifice ; Thy drops of blood must pay down all his fear. But love is lost ; the way of friendship 's gone ; Though David had his Jonathan, Christ His John. Yet be not surety, if thou be a father. Love is a personal debt. I cannot give My children's right, nor ought he take it : rather Both friends should die, than hinder them to live. Fathers first enter bonds to Nature's ends. And are her sureties ere they are a friend's. If thou be single, all thy goods and ground Submit to love ; but yet not more than all. Give one estate, as one life. None is bound To work for two, who brought himself to thrall. God made me one man ; love makes me no more, ' Till labour come, and make my weakness score. In thy discourse, if thou desire to please. All such is courteous, useful, new, or witty : Usefulness comes by labour, wit by ease ; Courtesy grows in court ; news in the city. Get a good stock of these, then draw the card That suits him best of whom thy speech is heard. Entice all neatly to what they know best ; For so thou dost thyself and him a pleasure : {But a proud ignorance will lose his rest Rather than show his cards) steal from his treasure 64 THE TEMPLE. What to ask further. Doubts well-raised do lock The speaker to thee, and preserve thy stock. If thou be master-gunner, spend not all That thou canst speak at once, but husband it. And give men turns of speech : do not forestall By lavishness thine own and other's wit. As if thou mad'st thy will. A civil guest Will I no more talk all than eat all the feast. Be calm in arguing ; for fierceness makes Error a fault, and truth discourtesy. Why should I feel another man's mistakes More than his fickleness or poverty ? In love I should : but anger is not love, , Nor wisdom neither ; therefore gently move. Calmness is great advantage : he that lets Another chafe, may warm him at his fire ; Mark all his wand'rings, and enjoy his frets. As cunning fencers suffer heat to tire. Truth dwells not in the clouds j the bow that 's there Doth often aim at, never hit, the sphere. Mark what another says ; for many are Full of themselves, and answer their own notion. Take all into thee ; then with equal care )- / Balance each dram of reason, like a potion. If truth be with thy friend, be with them both; Share in the conquest, and confess a troth. Be useful where thou Uvest, that they may Both want and wish thy pleasing presence still. Kindness, good parts, great places, are the way To compass this. Find out men's wants and will, THE TEMPLE. — J^' And meet them there. All worldly joys go less To the one joy of doing kindnesses. Pitch thy behaviour low, thy projects high ; So shalt thou humble and magnanimous be ; Sink not in spirit : who aimeth,at the sky Shoots higher much than he that means a tree, A grain of glory mixed with humbleness Cures both a fever and lethargicness. Let thy mind still be bent, still plotting where, And when, and how the business may be done. Slackness breeds worms ; but the sure traveller. Though he alights sometimes, still goeth on. Active and stirring spirits live alone ; Write on the others, " Here lies such a one." Slight not the smallest loss, whether it be In love or honour ; take account of all ; Shine like the sun in every corner ; see Whether thy stock of credit swell or fall. Who say, " I care not," those I give for lost ; And to instruct them, 't will not quit the cost. Scorn no man's love) though of a mean degree ; (Love is a present for a mighty king). Much less make any one thine enemy. As guns destroy, so may a little sling. The cunning workman never doth refuse The meanest tool that he may chance to use. All foreign wisdom doth amount to this, To take all that is given ; whether wealth, Or love, or language ; nothing comes amiss : A good digestion turneth all to health ; 66 THE TEMPLE. And then, as far as fair behaviour may, Strike off all scores ; none are so clear as they. Keep all thy native good, and naturalize All foreign of that name ; but scorn their ill ; Embrace their activeness, not vanities. , Who follows all things, forfeiteth his will. If thou observest strangers in each fit, In time they '11 run thee out of all thy wit Affect in things about thee cleanliness. That all may gladly board thee, as a flower. Slovens take up their stock of noisomeness Beforehand, and^ anticipate their last hour. Let thy mind's sweetness have his operation Upon thy body, clothes, and habitation. In alms regard thy means, and others' merit. Think heaven a better bargain than to give Only thy single market-money for it. Join hands with God to make a man to live. Give to all something; tO a good poor man. Till thou change names, and be where he be^n. Man is God's image ; but a poor man is Christ's stamp to boot : both images regard. : ' God reckons for him, courits the favour His ; Write, " So much given to God ; " thou shalt be heard. Let thy alms go before, and keep heaven's gate Open for thee ; or both may come too late. Restore to God His due in tithe and time : A tithe purloined cankers the whole estate. Sundays observe : think when the bells do chime, 'T is angels' music ; therefore come not late. THE TEMPLE. 67 God, then, deals blessings ; if a king did so, Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show? Twice on the day His due is understood ; For all the week thy food so oft He gave thee. Thy cheer is mended ; bate not of the food. Because 't is better, and perhaps may save thee. Thwart not the Almighty God ; O be not cross. Fast T^hen thou wilt ; but then 't is gain, not loss. Though private prayer be a brave design. Yet public hath more promises, more love ; And love 's a weight to hearts, to eyes a sign. We all are but cold suitors ; let us move Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven ; Pray with the most ; for where most pray is heaven. When once thy foot enters the church, be bare. God is more there than thou ; for thou art there Only by His permission., Then beware. And make thyself all reverence and fear. Kneeling ne'er- spoiled silk stockings ; quit thy state. All equal are within the church's gate. Resort to sermons, but to prayers most ; Praying's the end of preaching. O be drest; Stay not for the other pin; why, thou hast lost - A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee, Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about thee. In time of service seal up both thine eyes. And send them to thy heart ; that, spying sin, They may weep out the stains by them did rise ; Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in. 5 — •? L 68 THE TEMPLE. Who marks in church-time others' symmetry, Makes all their beauty his deformity. Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part ; Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures thither. Christ purged His temple ; so must thou thy heart. All worldly thoughts are but thieves met together To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well ; For churches either are our heaven or hell. Judge not the preacher, for he is thy judge ; If thou misUke him, thou conceiv'st him not. God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. The worst speak, something good : if all want sense, God takes a text, and preacheth patience. He that gets patience, and the blessing which Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains. He that by being at church escapes the ditch, Which he might fall in by companions, gains. He that loves God's abode, and to combine With saints on earth, shall one day with them shine. Jest not at preacher's language or expression ; How know'st thou but thy sins made him miscarry? Then turn thy faults and his into confession ; God sent him, whatsoe'er he be. O tarry. And love him for his Master; his condition. Though it be ill, makes him no ill physician. None shall in hell such bitter pangs endure As those who mock at God's way of salvation. THE TEMPLE. Whom oil and balsams kill, what salve can cure ? They drink with greediness a full damnation. The Jews refused thunder ; and we, folly !* Though God do hedge us in, yet who is holy ? Sum up at night what thou hast done by day, And in the morning, what thou hast to do. Dress and undress thy soul ; mark the decay And growth of it : if with thy watch, that too Be down, then wind up both ; since' we shall be Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree. In brief, acquit thee bravely ; play the man. Look not on pleasures as they come, but go. Defer not the least virtue : life's poor span Make not an ell by trifling in tiny woe. If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains ; If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains. • The Jewish law was given with thunder at Mount Sinai — they disobeyed it ; St Paul says: " It pleased God by \he foolishness of preaching to save them that believe." — I. Corinthians i, 2i. Some reject it ; tlierefore, " Though God do hedge us in," &o. yo THE TBMPLM. "L SUPERLIMINARE.* Thou, whom the former precepts have Sprinkled, and taught how to behave Thyself in church, approach, and taste The Church's mystical repast. Avoid profaneness ; come not here Nothing but holy, pure, and clear, Or that which groaneth to be so. May at his peril farther go. )|i jlltJtr. Pi. BROKEN Altar, Lord, Thy servant rears. Made of a heai-t, and cfemented with tears ; Whose parts are as Thy hand did frame ; No workman's tool hath touched the same. A heart alone Is such a stone. As nothing but Thy power doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame, To praise. Thy name : That, if I chance to hold my peace. These stones to praise Thee may not cease. O let Thy blessed Sacrifick be mine, And sanctify this Altar to be Thine. "• The threshold. THE TEMPLE. 11 O all ye who pass by, whose eyes and mind To worldly things are sharp, but_to me blind, — To me, who took eyes that I might you find : Was ever grief like mine ? The princes of my people make a head Against -their Maker : Jhe^do wish me dead, Wlj6cannot wish, except I give theni bread: Was ever grief like mine ? Without me each one who doth now me brave Had to this day been an Egyptian slave. They use that power against me which I gave : Was ever grief like mine ? Mine own Apostle, who the, bag did bear, ^r' ■*' , . .. Though he had all I had, did Jioi forbear To sell me also, and to put me th^g,; Was ey^r grief like mine ? For thirty pence"^ he did my death devise, Who at three hundred did the ointment prize. Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice : Was ever grief like mine ? Therefore my soul melts, and my heart's dear treasure Drops bloo4 (the only beads) my words to measure : "O let this cup pass, if it be Thy pleasure : " Was eyer grief like mine ? 72 THE TEMPLE. « These drops being tempered with a sinner's tears, A balsam are for both the hemispheres, Curing all wounds but mine — all, but my fears. Was ever grief like mine ? Yet my disciples sleep : I cannot gain One hour of watching; but their drowsy brain Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain : Was ever grief like mine ? Arise ! arise ! they come. Look how they run ! Alas ! what haste they make to be undone ! How, with their lanterns, do they seek the Sun ! Was ever grief like mine ? With clubs and staves they seek me as a thief. Who am the way of truth, the true relief — Most true to those who are my greatest grief: Was ever grief like mine ? Judas, dost thou betray me with a kiss ? Canst thou find hell about my lips ? and miss Of life, just at the gates of life and bhss? Was ever grief like mine? See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands • Of faith, but fury; yet, at their commands, I suffer binding, who have loosed their bands : Was ever grief like mine ? All my disciples fly ! Fear puts a bar Betwixt my friends and me. They leave the star That brought the wise men of the east from far: Was ever grief like mine ? THE TEMPLE. 73 Then from one ruler to another, bound They lead me — urging that it was not sound What I taught : comments would the text confound : Was ever grief like mine ? The priests and rulers all false witness seek 'Gainst Him who seeks not life, but is the meek And ready Paschal Lamb of this great week : Was ever grief like mine ? Then they accuse me of great blasphemy, That I did thrust into__J±Le-©eity, ^h.6 never thought that any robbery : Was ever grief like mine ? Some said that I the Temple to the floor In three days razed, and raisfed as before. Why, He that built the world can do much more : Was ever grief like mine ? Then they condemn me all with that same breathy Which I do give them daily, unto death. Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth : Was ever grief like mine ? They bind and lead me unto Herod : he Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree ; But yet their friendship is my enmity. Was ever grief like mine ? Herod and all his bands do set me light, Who, teach all hands to war, fingers to fight. And only am the Lord of Hosts and might : Was ever grief like mine ? ?4 THE 7EMFLE. Herod in judgment sits, while I do stand j Examines me with a censorioas hand : I him obey, who all things else command : Was ever grief like mine ? The Jews accuse me with despitefulness ; And vying malice with my gentleness, Pick quarrels with their only happiness : Was ever grief like mine ? I answer nothing, but with patience prove , If stony hearts will melt with gentle love. But who does hawk at eagles with a dove ? Was ever grief like mine ? /V0<^ My silence rather doth augment their cry; My dove doth back into my bosom fly, Because the raging waters still are high : Was ever grief like mine ? Hark, how they cry aloud still, " Crucify ! It is not fit He live a day ! " they cry. Who cannot live less than eternally : Was ever grief like mine ? Pilate, a stranger, holdeth off; but they. Mine own dear people, cry, "Away ! away !" With noises confused frighting the day : Was ever grief like mine? Yet still they shout, and cry, and stop their ears, Putting my life among their sins and fears. And therefore wish my blood on thenrand theirs i Was ever grief like mine ? THk templ£. 7S See how spite cankers things. These words aright Usfed, and wished, are the whole worWs dehght ; But honey is their gall, brightness their night : Was ever grief Uke mine ? They choose a murderer, and all agree f In him to do themselves a courtesy; 'iiibi :•■■_ ' For it was tlieir own cause who killed, me : \ Was ever grief hke mijagPj And a seditious murderer he was ; But I) the Prince of Peace-^peace that doth pass All understanding, more than heaven doth glass : Was ever grief like mine ? Why, Csesar is their only king, not I : He clave the stony rock when they were dry ; But surely not their hearts, as I well try : Was ever grief like mine ? Ah, how they scourge me ! yet my tenderness Doubles each lash ; and yet their bitterness Winds up my grief to a mysteriousness : Was ever grief like mine ? They buffet me, and box me as they list, Who grasp the earth and heaven with my fist, And never yet, whbm I would punish, missed : Was ever grief Hke mine ? Behold, they spit on me in scornful wise. Who by my spittle gave the blind man eyes, Leaving his bUndness to mine enemies : Was ever grief Uke mine ? 7 6 THE TEMPLE. My face they cover, though it be divine, — As Moses' face was veilfed, so is mine, Lest on their double dark souls either shine : Was ever grief like mine ? Servants and abjects flout me : they are witty : " Now prophesy who strikes thee ! " is their ditty. So they, in me, deny themselves all pity : Was ever grief like mine ? And now I am delivered unto death. Which each one calls for so with utmost breath, That he before me well-nigh suffereth : Was ever grief like mine ? Weep not^ dear friends, since I for both have wept, When all my tears were blood, the while you slept ■ Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept : Was ever grief like mine ? The soldiers lead me to the common hall ; There they deride me, they abuse me, all : Yet for twelve heavenly legions I could call : Was ever grief like mine ? Then with a scarlet robe they me array j Which shows my blood to be the only way And cordial left to repair man's decay : Was ever grief hke mine ? Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear j "For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear. Though I my vine planted and watered there : Was ever grief like mine ? THE TEMPLE. 77 So sits the earth's great curse in Adam's fall Upon my head ; so I remove it all From th' earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall : Was ever grief like mine ? Then with the reed they gave to me before They strike my head, the rock from whence all store Of heavenly blessings issue evermore : Was ever grief like mine ? They bow their knees to me, and cry, " Hail, king !" Whatever scoifs or scornfulness can bring, I am the floor, the sink, where they it fling : Was ever grief like mine ? Yet since man's sceptres are as frail as reeds. And thorny all their crowns, bloody their weeds, I, who am Truth, turn into truth their deeds : Was ever grief like mine ? The soldiers also spit upon that face Which aiigels did desire to have the grace, And prophets, once to see, but found no place : Was ever grief like mine ? Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout, Who " Crucify him ! " cry with one strong shout. God holds His peace at man, and man cries out : Was ever grief like mine ? They lead me in once more, and putting then My own clothes on, they lead me out again. Whom devils fly, thus is he tossed of men : Was ever grief like mine ? 78 WE TEMPLE. And now weary of sport, glad to engross All spite in one, counting my life their loss, They carry me to my most bitter cross : Was ever grief iike mine ? My cross I bear myself, until I faint ; Then Simon bears it for me by constraint, The decreed burden of each mortal saint : Was ever grief like mine ? O all ye who pass by, behold and see — Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree, The Tree of Life to all but only me : Was ever grief like mine ? Lo ! here I hang, charged with a world of sin. The greater lyorld o' the two ; for that came in By words, but this by sorrow I must win : Was ever grief like mine ? Such sorrow, as if sinful man could feel, Or feel his part, — he would not cease to kneel Till all were melted, though he were all steel : Was ever grief like mine ? But, O my God, my God ! why leav'st Thou me, The Son, in whom Thou dost delight to be ? My God, my God ■^ Never was grief like mine. Shame tears my soul, my body many a wound ; Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confouiid; Reproaches, which are free, while I am bound : Was ever grief like mine ? \ THE TEMPLE, 79 Now heal thyself, Physician ; now come down. Alas ! I did so \vhen I left my crown And Father's smile for you, to feel His frown : Was ever grief like mine ? In healing not myself, there doth consist All that salvation which ye now resist ; Your safety in my sickness doth subsist : Was ever grief like mine ? Betwixt two thieves I "spend my utmost breath, ' As he that for some robbery suffereth. Alas ! what have I stolen from you ? — death : Was ever grief like mine ? A King my title is, prefixed on high, ' Yet by my subjects am condemned to die A servile death in servile company ; Was ever grief like mine? They gave me vinegar mingled with gall, But more with malice ; yet, when they did call, With manna, angels' food, Iffed them all : Was ever grief Hke mine ? They part my garments, and by lot dispose My coat, the type of love, which once cured those Who sought for help, never malicious foes : Was ever grief like mine ? Nay, after death their spite shall further go ; For they will pierce my side, I full well know. That as sin came, so sacraments might flow : Was ever grief like mine ? 8d THE TEMPLE. But now I die, now all is finished ; My woe, man's weal ; and now I bow my head;' Only let others say, when I am dead, Never was grief like mine ! )|$ l|itttfo$tm«0* O King of grief! (a title strange, yet true. To Thee of all kings only due) King of wounds ! how shall I grieve for Thee, Who in all grief preventest me ? Shall I weep blood ? why, Thou hast wept such store. That all Thy body was one door. Shall I be scourgfed, flouted, boxfed, sold ? 'Tis but to tell the tale is told. My God, my God ! why dost Thou part from me? Was such a grief as cannot be. Shall I then sing, skipping, Thy doleful story, And side with Thy triumphant glory ? Shall Thy strokes be my stroking ? thorns, my flower ? Thy rod, my posy ? cross, my bower ? But how then shall I imitate Thee, and Copy Thy fair though bloody hand? Surely I will revenge me on Thy love. And try who shall victorious prove. If Thou dost give me wealth, I will restore All back unto Thee by the poor ; If Thou dost give me honour, men shall see The honour doth belong to Thee. 1 will not marry ; or, if she be mine. She and her children shall be Thine ; THE TEMPLE. 8l My bosom friend, if he blaspheme Thy name, I will tear thence his love and fame. One-half of me being gone, the rest I give Unto some chapel, die or live. As for Thy passion-^but of that anon, When with the other I have done. For Thy predestination, I '11 contrive That three years hence, if I survive, I '11 build a spital,* or mend common ways. But mend my own without delays. Then I will use the works of Thy creation As if I used them but for fashion ; The world and I will quarrel, and the year Shall not perceive that I am here. My music shall find Thee, and eVry string Shall have his attribute to sing, That all together may accord in Thee, And prove one God, one harmony. If Thou shalt give me wit, it shall appear ; If Thou hast giv'n it me, 't is here. Nay,. I will read Thy book, and never move Till I have found therein Thy love, Thy art of love, which I '11 turn back on Thee, O my dear Saviour, Victory ! Then for Thy passion — I will do for that Alas ! my God, I know not what. • Old abbreviation for hospital. 82 THE TEMPLE. I HAVE considered it, and find There is no dealing with Thy mighty passion ; For though I die for Thee, I am behind ; My sins deserve the condemnation. O make me innocent, that I May give a disentangled state and free ; And yet Thy wounds still my attempts defy, For by Thy death I die for Thee. Ah ! was it not enough that Thou , By Thy eternal glory didst outgo me ? Couldst Thou not grief's sad conquests me allow, But in all vict'ries overthrow me ? Yet by confession will I come Into the conquest. Though I can do nought Against Thee, in Thee I will overcome The man* who once against Thee fought. 1|$ %ym^. r HILOSOPHERS have measured mountains, Fathomed the depths of seas, of states, and kings. Walked with a staff to heav'n, and tracfed fountains : But there are two vast, spacious things. The which to measure it doth more behove ; Yet few there are that sound them,— Sin and Love, " The old Adam, i.e., the evil nature of man. THE TEMPLE. 83 Who would know Sin, let him repair Unto Mount Olivet ; tliere shall he see A Man so wrung with pains, that all his hair. His skin, his garments bloody be. Sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain To hunt his cruel food througl* ev'ry vein, Who knows not Love, let him assay And taste that juice which on the cross a pike Did set again abroach ; then let him say If ever he did taste the hke. Ijove is that liquor, sweet and most divine, Which my God feels as blood, but I as wine. 1|^ ^i««$n LyORD, how I am all ague, when I seek What I have treasured in my memory ; Since, if my soul make even with the week, Each seventh note by right is due to Thee. I find there quarries of piled vanities. But shreds of holiness, that dare not venture To show their face, since cross to Thy decrees; There the circumference earth is, heav'n the centre ; In so much dregs the quintessence is small. The spirit and good extract of my heart Comes to about the many hundredth part. Yet, Lord, restore Thy image, hear my call ; And though my hard heart scarce to Thee can groan, Remember that Thou once didst write in stone. 84 THE TEMPLE. Jtitt^ Irt O MY Chief Good, How shall I measure out Thy blood? How shall I cSunt what Thee befell, And each grief tell ? Shall I Thy woes Number according to Thy foes ? Or since one star showed Thy first breath, Shall all Thy death? Or shall each leaf Which falls ia Autumn, score a grief? Or cannot leaves, but fruit, be sign Of the True Vine ? Then let each hour Of my whole life one grief devour j That Thy distress through all may run, And be my Sun. Or rather let My several sins their sorrows get ; That, as each beast his cure doth know. Each sin may so. Since blood is fittest, Lord, to write Thy sorrows in, and bloody fight, My heart hath store /write there, wherein One box doth lie both ink and sin. That when sin spies so many foes. Thy whips. Thy nails, Thy wounds. Thy woes. All come to lodge there, sin may say, " No room for me," and fly away. THE TEMPLE. 85 Sin being gone, O fill the place, And keep possession with Thy grace ; Lest sin take courage and return, And all the writings blot or burn. !|^iihgmftltuit. rl AVING been tenant long to a rich Lord, Not thriving, I resolvfed to be bold. And make a suit unto Him, to afford A new small-rented lease, and cancel the old. In heaven at His manor I Him sought ; They told me there that He was lately gone About some land, which He had dearly bought Long since on earth, to take possession. I straight returned, and knowing His great birth. Sought Him accordingly in great resorts, — In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts j At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth Of thieves and murderers j there I Him espied. Who straight, " Your suit is granted," said, and died. %)^M^n. O BLESSED Body ! whither art Thou thrown ? No lodging for Thee, but a cold hard stone ? So many hearts on earth, and yet not one Receive Thee ? 86 THE TEMPLE. Sure there is room within our hearts, good" store ; For they can lodge transgressions by the score ; Thousands of toys dwell there, yet out of door They leave Thee. But that which shows them large, shows them unfit. Whatever sin did this pure rock commit, Which holds Thee now ? Who hath indicted it Of murder ? Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain Thee, And missing this, most falsely did arraign Thee ; Only these stones in quiet entertain Thee, And order. And as of old, the law by heav'nly art Was writ in stone ; so Thou, which also art The letter of the Word, find'st no fit heart To hold Thee. Yet do we^till persist as we began, And so should perish, but that nothing can. Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man Withhold Thee. K.ISE, heart ; thy Lord is risen. Sing His praise Without delays. Who takes thee by the hand, that thou like\\rise With Him mayst rise j' That, as His death calcined thee to dust. His life may make thee gold, and much more just Awake, my lute, and strtiggle for thy part Wiih all thy art. l^HE TEMPLE. 87 The cross taught all wood to resound His name Who bore the same. His stretchfed sinews 'taught all strings what key Is best to celebrate this most high day. Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long ; Or since all music is but three parts vied, And multiplied, let Thy blessbd spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with His sweet art. 1 got me flowers to strew Thy way ; I got me boughs off many a tree ; But Thou wast up by break of day, And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee. The sun arising in the east, Though he give light, and th' east perfume, If they should offer to contest With Thy arising, they presume. Can there be any day but this, Though many suns to shine endeavour ? We count three hundred, but we miss : There is but one, and that one ever. Jmit^ l[tttg$. This curious poem and tlie one entitled the ' ' Altar " have prototypes both in Greek ajid mediasval Latin poetry. To Theocritus has been ascribed the Ara ; to -him or to Simmias of Rhodes -the Syrinx ; and to Simmias the Securis, Ovum and Alee. Most of them may be found in the Cambridge edition of the " Poetse Minores GrEeci." Herbert's example was much followed by-poetasters till Dryden ridiculed the fantasy in " Mac Flecknoe." " Choose for thy command Some peaceful province in acrostic land, Where thou may'st wings display or altars raise, And torture one poor word ten thousand ways. " 88 THE TEMPLE. ^iKt^r li[ttt0$. Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he became Most poor ; With Thee O let me rise As larks, harmoniously. And sing this day Thy victories : Then shall the fall further the flight in me. My tender age in sorrow did begin : And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sin. That I became Most thin. With Thee Let me combine. And feel this day Thy victory, For, if I imp my wing on Thine, Affliction shall advance the flight in me. THE TEMPLE. 89 !|]jj^ Jqtibm* As he that sees a dark and shady grove, Stays not, but -looks beyond it on the sky. So when I viewed my sins, mine eyes remove More backward still, and to that water fly Which is above the heavens, whose spring and vent Is in my dear Redeemer's pierced side. O blessbd streams ! either ye do prevent And stop our sins from growing thick and wide, Or else give tears to drown them as they grow. In you Redemption measures all my time, And spreads the plaster equal to the crime ; You taught the Book of Life my name, that so, Whatever future sins should me miscall. Your first acquaintance might discredit all. !|]jI^ Jitplkm. Since, Lord, to Thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage, on my infancy Thou didst lay hold, and antedate My faith in me. 90 THE TEMPLE. O let me still Write Thee great God, and me a child : Let me be soft and supple to Thy will, Small to myself, to others mild, Behither* ill. Although by stealth My flesh get on, yet let her sister, My soul, bid nothing, but preserve her wealth : The growth of flesh is but a blister ; Childhood is health. Jr ULL of rebellion, I would die, Or fight, or travel, or deny That Thou hast aught to do with me. O tame my heart ; It is Thy highest art To captivate strongholds to Thee. If Thou shalt let this venom lurk, And in suggestions fume and work, My soul will turn to bubbles straight. And thence by kind Vanish into a wind. Making Thy workmanship deceit. O smooth my rugged heart, and there Engrave Thy reverend law and fear ; * Except in. THE TEMPLE. 91 Or make a new one, since the old Is sapless grown, And a much fitter stone To hide my dust, than Thee to hold. -Lord, with what care hast Thou begirt us round I Parents first season us : then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws ; they send us bound To rules of reason, holy messengers. Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, Bibles laid open, millions of surprises. Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness. The sound of glory ringing in our ears ; Without, our shame ; within, oqr consciences ; " Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears. Yet all these fences and their whole array One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away. j:f«iwm When first Thou didst entice to Thee my heart, I thought the service brave : So many joys I writ down for my part. Besides what I might have 92 THE TEMPLE. Out of my stock of natural delights, Augmented with Thy gracious benefits. I looked on Thy furniture so fine, And made it fine to me ; Thy glorious household stuff did me entwine. And 'tice me unto Thee. Such stars I counted mine : both heaven and earth Paid me my wages in a world of mirth. What pleasures could I want, whose King I served, Where joys my fellows were ? Thus argued into hopes, my thoughts reserved No place for grief or fear ; Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place. And made her youth and fierceness seek Thy face : At first thou gavest me milk and sweetnesses ; I had my wish and way : My days were strewed with flowers and happiness : There was no month but May. But with my years sorrow did twist and grow, And made a party unawares for woe. My flesh began unto my soul in pain. Sicknesses clave my bones, Consuming agues dwell in every vein. And tune my breath to groans, Sorrow was all my soul ; I scarce believed, Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived. When I got health, Thou took'st away my life — And more ; for my friends die : My mirth and edge was lost : a blunted knife Was of more use than I. THE TEMPLE. 93 Thus, thin and lean, without a fence or friend, I was blown through with ev'ry storm and wind. Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town, Thou didst betray me to a lingering book, And wrap me in a gown. I was entangled in the world of strife, Before 1 had the power to change my life. Yet, for I threatened oft the siege to raise. Not simpering all mine age, Thou often didst with academic praise Melt and dissolve my rage. I took Thy sweetened pill, till I came near ; I could nor go away, nor persevere. Yet, lest perchance I should too happy be In my unhappiness. Turning my purge to food. Thou throwest me Into more sicknesses. Thus doth Thy power cross-bias me, not making Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking. Now I am here, what Thou wilt do with me None of my books will show : I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree — For sure, then, I should grow^ To fruit or shade ; at least, some bird w^uld trust Her household to me, an-fl I should be,K^<:- ¥ J Yet, though Thou troubjdst me, I mus^l* meek; In weakness must be stout ?\ 94 THE TEMPLE. Well, I will change the service, and go seek Some other master out. Ah, my dear God ! though I am clean forgot, Let me not love Thee, if I love Thee not. 1_.0RD, I confess my sin is great; Great is my sin. O ! gently treat With Thy quick flower, Thy momentary bloom ; Whose life still pressing Is one uhdressing, * A steady aiming at a tomb. Man's age is two hour's' work, or three ; Each day doth round about us see. Thus are we to delights ; but we are all To sorrows old, If life be told From what life feeleth, Adam's fall. O let Thy height of mercy then Compassionate short-breathbd men, Cul^me not off for my most foul transgression, I do confess \ My foolishness ; M|-'C}od, accept ofj ra^ confession. Swoit^n at length tHts bitter bowl, Whi/ETi Thou hast poured into my soul ; THE TEMPLE. 95 Thy wormwood turn to health, winds to fair weather. For if Thou stay, I and this day. As we did rise, we die together. When Thou for sin rebukest man, Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan ; Bitterness fills our bowels ; all our hearts Pine, and decay. And drop away, And carry with them th' other parts. But Thou wilt sin and grief destroy, That so the broken bones may joy. And tune together in a well-set song, Full of His praises Who dead men raises : Fractures well cured make us more strong. \m% Lord, how couldst Thou so much appease Thy wrath for sin, as when man's sight was dim, And could see little, to regard his ease, And bring by faith all things to him? Hungry I was, and had no meat : I did conceit a most delicious feast ; I had it straight, and did as truly eat As ever did a welcome guest. 96 THE TEMPLE. There' is a rare outlandish root, Which, when I could not get, I thought it here; That apprehension cured so well my foot, That I can walk to heaVn well near. I owfed thousands and much more ; I did believe that I did nothing owe. And lived accordingly ; my Creditor Believes so too, and lets me go. Faith makes me anything, or all That I believe is in the sacred story ; And when sin placeth me in Adam's fall. Faith sets me higher in his glory. If I go lower in the book, What can be lower than the common manger ? Faith puts me there with Him who sweetly took Our flesh and frailty, death and danger. If bliss had lien in art or strength, None but the wise and strong had gained it ; Where now by faith all arms are of a length. One size doth all conditions fit. A peasant may beheve as much As a great clerk, and reach the highest stature. Thus dost Thou make proud knowledge bend and crouch, While grace fills up uneven nature. When creatures had no real light Inherent in them. Thou didst make the sun Impute a lustre, and allow them bright ; And in this show what Christ hath done. THE TEMPLE. 97 That which before was darkened clean With bushy; groves, pricking the looker's eye, Vanished away, when faith did change the scene, And then appeared a glorious sky. What though my body run to dust ? Faith cleaves unto it, counting ev'ry grain With an exact and most particular trust. Reserving all for flesh again. Jr RAYER, the Church's banquet, angels' age, God's breath in man returning to his birth. The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage^ The Christian plummet, sounding heaven and earth ; Engine against the Almighty, sinner's tower. Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, The six-days'-world transposing in an hour, A: kind of tune, which all things hear and fear j Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss, Exalted manna, gladness of the best. Heaven in ordinary, man well drest. The Milky Way, the bird of Paradise ; Church bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood, The land of spices, something -understood. 98 THE TEMPLE, !|trl^ iammttitmtt* Not in rich furniture or fine array, Nor in a wedge of gold, Thou, who from me wast sold, To me dost now Thyself convey, For so thou shouldst without me still have been, Leaving within me sin. But by the way of nourishment and strength, Thou creep'st into my breast, Making Thy way my rest. And Thy small quantities my length. Which spread their forces into every part, Meeting sin's force and art. Yet can these not get over to my soul, Leaping the wall that parts Our souls and fleshy hearts ; But as the outworks, they may control , My rebel flesh, and, carrying Thy name. Affright both sin and shame. Only Thy grace, which with these elements comes, Knoweth the ready way. And hath the privy key, . Opening the soul's most subtile* rooms ; While those to spirits refined, at door attend Despatches from their friend. QIVE me my captive soul, or take My body also thither; * Retired, -hidden. THE TEMPLE. 99 Another lift like this will make Them both to be together. Before that sin turned flesh to stone, And all our lump to leaven, A fervent sigh might well have blown Our innocent earth to heaven. For sure when Adam did not know To sin, or sin to smother ; He might to heav'n from Paradise go, As from one room t' another. Thou hast restored us to this ease By this Thy heav'nly blood ; Which I can go to when I please. And leave th' earth to their food. J[niijt|utt/ Cho. JLeT all the world in every corner sing, My God and King. Vers. The heavens are not too high, His praise may thither fly ; The earth is not too low, His praises there may grow. Cho, Let all the world in every corner sing. My God and King. * A chant in which strain answers strain. ?— 3 100 TBE TEMPLE. Vers. The Church with psalms must shout, No door can keep them out ; But, above all, the heart Must bear the longest part. Cho. Let all the world in every corner sing. My God and King. imt. Immortal Love, Author of this great frame. Sprung from that beauty which can never fade. How hath man parcelled out Thy glorious name. And thrown it on that dust which Thou hast made. While mortal love doth all the title gain ; Which siding with invention, they together Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain, (Thy workmanship) and give Thee share in neither. Wit fancies beauty, beauty raiseth wit ; The world is theirs, they two play out the game. Thou standing by j and though Thy glorious name Wrought out dehverance from th' infernal pit. Who sings Thy praise ? only a scarf or glove Doth warm our hands, and make them write of love. THE TEMPLE. lOl II. Immortal Heat, O let Thy greater flame Attract the lesser to it ; let those fires Which shall consume the world, first make it tame. And kindle in our hearts such true desires. As may consume our lusts, and make Thee way. Then shall our hearts pant Thee ; then shall our brain All her ifiventions on Thine altar lay, And there in hymns send back Thy fire again, Our eyes shall see Thee, which before saw dust, Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blind. Thou shalt recover all Thy goods in kind, Who wert disseized* by usurping lust. All knees shall bow to Thee, all wits shall rise And praise Him who did make and mend our eyes. )|t How should I praise Thee, Lord? how should my rhymes Gladly engrave Thy love in steel, If what my soul doth feel sometimes. My soul might ever feel ! Although there were some forty heav'ns, or more, Sometimes I peer above them all ; Sometimes I hardly reach a score ; Sometimes to hell I fall. • • Deprived of it. 102 THE TEMPLE. O rack me not to such a vast extent ; Those distances belong to Thee : The world 's too little for Thy tent, A grave too big for me. Wilt Thou meet arms with man, that Thou dost stretch A crumb of dust from heaven to hell ? Will great God measure with a wretch ? Shall He thy stature spell ? O let me, when Thy roof my soul hath hid, O let me roost and nestle there ; Then of a sinner Thou art rid. And I of hope and fear. Yet, take Thy way ; for, sure. Thy way is best : Stretch or contract me Thy poor debtor : This is but tuning of my breast, To make the music better. Whether I fly with angels, fall with dust, Thy hands made both, and I am there. Thy power and love, my love and trust. Make one place everywhere. It cannot be. Where is that mighty joy Which just now took up all my heart? ' Lord ! if Thou must needs use Thy dart, Save that, and me ; or sin for both destroy. . 7 HE TEMPLE. 1 03 The grosser world stands to Thy word and art ; But Thy diviner world of grace Thou suddenly dost raise and race,* And every day a new Creator art. O fix Thy chair of grace, that all my powers May also fix their reverence ; For when Thou dost depart from hence, They grow unruly, and sit in Thy bowers. Scatter, or bind them all to bend to Thee; : Though elements change and heaven move-. Let not Thy higher Court remove, But keep a standing Majesty in me. Who says that fictions only and false hair Become a verse ? Is there in truth no beauty ? Is all good structure in a winding stair? May no lines pass, except they do their duty Not to a true, but painted chair ? ' Is it not verse, except enchanted groves And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spun lines ? Must purhng streams refresh a lover's loves ? Must all be veiled, while he that reads, divines, Catching the sense at two removes ? « Forcibly draw forth or develop. 104 THE TEMPLE. Shepherds are honest people; let them sing: Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime :* I envy no man's nightingale or spring ; Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme, Who plainly say, " My God, my King ! " Jmpbp^tti - If, as a flower doth spread and die, Thou wouidst extend me to some good, Before I were by frost's extremity Nipt in the bud ; The sweetness and the praise were Thine ; But the extension and the' room Which in Thy garland I should fill, were mine At Tky great doom. For as Thou dost impart Thy grace, The greater shall our glory be. . Th^ measure of our joys is in this pla,ce, The stuff with Thee. Let me riot languish, then, and spend A life as barren to Thy praise As is the dust, to which that hfe doth tend, But with delays. All things are busy ; only I Neither bring hoiiey with the bees, * Pull for prime. A riastic athletic sport, in which two or more endeavoured to pull each other across a marked line on the ground — resembling the modem " tug of war." It passed into aproverbial expression. THE TEMPLE. 105 Nor flowers to make that, nor the husbandry To water these. 4 I am no link of Thy great chain, But all my company is a weed. Lord, place me in Thy concert ; give one strain To my poor need. )|$ !|ttl^ ^^rijpi«p$. \J BOOK ! infinite sweetness ! let my heart Suck ev'ry letter, and a honey gain, Precious for any grief in any part ; To clear the breast, to mollify all pain. Thou art all health, health thriving, till it make A full eternity : thou art a mass Of strange delights, where we may wish and take. Ladies, look here ! this is the thankful glass, ' That mends the looker's eyes : this is the well That washes what it shows. Who can endear Thy praise too much ? thou art Heaven's lieger* here, Working against the states of death, and hell. Thou art joy's handsel ;t heaven lies flat in thee, Subject to ev'ry mounter's bended kne^., • Vassal fighting for heaven. t Handsel is the first instalment, or earnest. I06 THE TEMPLE. II. O THAT I knew how all thy lights combine, And the configurations of their glory ) Seeing not only how each verse doth shine, But all the constellations of the stoiy. This verse marks that, and both do make a motion Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie : Then as dispersed herbs do watch* a potion. These three make up some Christian's destiny. Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good, And comments on thee ; for in everything Thy words do find me out, and parallels bring. And in another make me understood. Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss : This book of stars lights to eternal bliss. JLlSTEN, sweet 'Dove, unto my song. And spread Thy golden wings in me ; Hatching my tender heart so long. Till it get wing, and fly away with Thee. Where is that fire which once descended On Thy Apostles ? Thou didst then Keep open house, richly attended, Feastinig all comers by twelve chosen men. * Watch a potion— meaning, wait to be made into a potion. THE TEMPLE. 107 Such glorious gifts Thou didst bestow, That the earth did like a heaven appear ; , The stars were coming down to know If they might mend their wages, and serve here. The sun, which once did shine alone, Hung down his head, and wished for night, When he beheld twelve suns for one Going about the world, and giving light. But since those pipes of gold, which brought That cordial water to our ground. Were cut and martyred by the fault Of those who did themselves thro' their side wound ; Thou shutt'st the door, and keep'st within ; Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink : And if the braves of conquering sin Did not excite Thee, we should wholly sink. Lord, though we change. Thou art the same — The same sweet God of love and light : Restore this day, for Thy great Name, Unto his ancient and miraculous right. %X^tt. My stock lies dead, and no increase Doth my dull husbandry improve ; O let Thy graces without cease Drop from above ! Io8 THE TEMPLE. If still the sun should hide his face, Thy house would but a dungeon prove, Thy works night's captives ; O let grace Drop from above ! The dew doth ev'ry morning fall, And shall the dew outstrip Thy dove ? The dew, for which grass cannot call Drojp from above. Death is still working like a mple, And digs my grave at each remove ; Let grace work too, and on my soul Drop from above. Sin is still hammering my heart Unto a hardness void of love ; Let suppling grace, to cross his art, Drop from above. O come ! for Thou dost know the way. Or if to me Thou wilt not move. Remove me where I need not say- Drop from above. 1 O write a verse or two, is all the praise That I can raise ; Mend my estate in any ways, Thou shalt have more. THE TEMPLE. 109 I go to church ; help me to wings, and I Will thither fly; Or if I mount unto the sky, I will do more. Man is all weakness ; there is no such thing As prince or king : His arm is short ; yet with a sling He may do more. A herb distilled, and drunk, may dwell next door. On the same floor, To a brave soul ; exalt the poor ; They can do more. O raise me then ! Poor bees, that work all day, Sting my delay, Who have a work as well as they. And much, much more. IviLL me not every day, Thou Lord of life ! since T..y one death for me Is more than all my deaths can be. Though I in broken pay Die over each hour of Methusalem's stay. If all men's tears were let Into one common sewer, sea, and brine; What were they all, compared to Thine ? no THE TEMPLE. Wherein if they were set, They would discolour Thy most bloody sweat Thou art my grief alone, Thou Lord conceal it not ; and as Thou art All my delight, so all my smart : Thy cross took up in one, By way of imprest, all my future moan. I CANNOT ope mine eyes, But Thou art ready there to catch My morning soul and sacriiice ; That we must needs for that day make a match. My God, what is a heart? Silver, or gold, or precious stone. Or star, or rainbow, or a part Of all these things, or all of them in one? My God, what is a heart, That Thou shouldst it so eye, and woo. Pouring upon it all Thy art. As if that Thou hadst nothing else to do ? Indeed, man's whole estate Amounts (and richly) to serve Thee ; He did not heav'n and earth create. Yet studies them, not Him by whom they be. THE TEMPLE. Ill Teach me Thy love to know ; That this new light, which now I see, May both the work and workman show ; Then by a sunbeam I will climb to Thee. O THAT I could a sin once see ! We paint the devil foul, yet he Hath some good in him, all agree. Sin is flat opposite to the Almighty, seeing It wants the good of virtue, and of being. But God more care of us hatli had : If apparitions make us sad, By sight of sin we should grow mad. Yet as in sleep we see foul death, and live, So devils are our sins in prospective. Blest be the God of love, Who gave me eyes, and light, arid power this day. Both to be busy and to play. But much more blest be God above, Who gave me sight alone, Which to Himself He did deny; For when He sees my ways, I die ; But I have got His Son, and He hath none. 112 THE TEMPLE. What have I brought Thee home For 'this Thy love ? have I discharged the debt, Which this day's favour did beget ? I ran ; but all I brought was foam. Thy diet, care, and cost. Do end in bubbles, balls of wind ; Of wind to Thee whom I have crost. But balls of wild-fire to my troubled mind.,- Yet still Thou goest on. And now with darkness closest weary eyes, Saying to man, " It doth suffice ; Henceforth repose ; your work is done." Thus in Thy ebony box Thou dost inclose us, till the day Put our amendment in our way. And give new wheels to our disordered clocks. I muse, which shows more love, 'The day or night : that is the gale, this the harbour That is the walk, and this the arbour j Or that the garden, this the grove. My God, Thou art all love. Not one poor minute 'scapes Thy breast, But brings a favour from above ; And in this love, more than in bed, I rest. THE TEMPLE. 1 13 While that my soul repairs to her devotion, Here I intomb my flesh, that it betimes May take acquaintance of this heap of dust : To which the blast of death's incessant motion, Fed with the exhalation of our crimes. Drives aU at last. Therefore I gladly trust My body to tjfis school, that it may learn To spell his elements, and find his birth Written in dusty heraldry and lines ; Which dissolution sure doth best discern. Comparing dust with dust, and earth with earth. These laugh at jeat,* and marble put for signs, To sever the good fellowship of dust, And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat To kiss those heaps, which now thgy have in trust ? Dear flesh, while I do pray, learn here thy stem And true descent, that when thou shalt grow fat, And wanton in thy cravings, thou mayst know. That flesh is but the glasst which holds the dust That measures all our time, which also shall Be crumbled into dust. Mark, here below, How tame these ashes are, how free from lust. That thou mayst fit thyself against thy fall. • Jet. t The hour-glass. "4 THE TEMPLE. \\^t^ %\%\t. Sweetest of sweets, I thank you ! when displeasure Did through my body wound my mind, You took me hence, and in your houSe of pleasure A dainty lodging me assigned. Now I in you without a body move. Rising and falling with your wings : We both together sweetly live and love, Yet say sometimes, God help poor kings! Comfort, I '11 die j for if you post from me, Sure I shall do so, and much more ; But if I travel in your company. You know the way to heaven's door. 1 KNOW it is my sin which locks Thine ears. And binds Thy hands; Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears, Or else the chilliness of my faint demands. But as cold hands are angry with the fire, And mend it still; So I do lay the want of my desire. Not on my sins or coldness, but Thy will. THE TEMPLE. II 5 Yet hear, O God, only for His blood's sake. Which pleads for me ; For though sins plead too, yet like stones they make His blood's sweet current much more loud to be. iVlARK you the floor? that square and speckled stone Which looks so firm and strong. Is Patience ; And the other black and grave, wherewith each one Is checkered all along. Humility. The gentle rising, which on either hand I^eads to the quire above, Is Confidence; But the sweet cement, which in one sure band Ties the whole frame, is Love And Charity. Hither sometimes sin steals, and stains The marble's neat and curious veins ; But "all is cleansed when the marble weeps. Sometimes death, puflSng at the door, Blows all the dust about the floor ; But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps. Blest be the Architect, whose art Could build so strong in a weak heart. Il6 THE TEMPLE. %\% l[tttbuttt$* Lord, how can man preach Thy eternal Word ? He is a brittle crazy glass, Yet in Thy temple Thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, To be a window, through Thy grace. But when Thou dost anneal * in glass Thy story, Making Thy life to shine within The holy preachers, then the light and glory More reverend grows, and more doth win ; Which else shows waterish, bleak, and thin. Doctrine and life, colours and light, in one When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and awe ; but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing. And in the ear, not conscience, ring. J_,ORD, who hast formed me out of mud, And hast redeemed me through Thy blood. And sanctified me to do good ; Purge all my sins done heretofore ; For I confess my heavy score. And I will strive to sin no more. To anneal is to fix the colours in painted glass, by melting them and it in great heat. THE TEMPLE. 117 Enrich ray heart, mouth, hands in me, With faith, with hope, with charity ; That 1 may run, rise, rest with thee. iutti^ni r EACE, muttering thoughts ! and do not grudge to keep Within the walls of your own breast. Who cannot on his own Bed sweetly sleep, Can on another's hardly rest. Gad not abroad at ev'ry quest and call Of an untrained hope or passion. To court each place or fortune that doth fall, Is wantonness in contemplation. Mark how the fire in flints doth quiet lie. Content and warm t' itself alone ; But when it would appear to other's eye, Without a knock it never shone. Give me the pliant mind, whose gentle measure Complies and suits with all estates ; Which can let loose to a crown, and yet with pleasure Take up within a cloister's gates. This soul doth span the world, and ha,ng content From either pole unto the centre ; Where in each room of the well furnish'd tent He lies warm, and without adventure. ij8 the temple. The brags of life are but a nine days' woader ; And after death the fumes that spring From private bodies, make as big a thunder As those which rise from a huge king. Only thy chronicle is lost ; and yet • Better by worms be all once spent, Than to have hellish moths still gnaw and fret Thy name in books, which may not rent."' When all thy deeds, whose brunt thou feel'st alone. And are chawed by others' pens and tongue. And as their wit is, their digestion. Thy nourished fame is weak or strong. Then cease discoursing, soul ; till thine own ground ; Do not thyself or friends importune. He that by seeking hath himself once found, Hath ever found a happy fortune. iVlY God, a verse is not a crown; No point of honour, or gay suit, No hawk, or banquet, or renown. Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute : It cannot vault, or dance, or playj ' It never was in France or Spain ; Nor can it entertain the day With a great stable or domain. * Which arp lasting;. t A scholastic term, synonymous with a quip or quirk. THE TEMPLE. 119 It is no office, art, or news ; Nor the Exchange, or busy Hall : But it is that which, while I use, I am with Thee, and Most take all. 1 SAW the Virtues sitting hand in hand In sev'ra:l ranks upon an azure throne. Where all the beasts and fowls, by their command, Presented tokens of submission. Humility, who sat the lowest there To execute their call. When by the beasts the presents tendered were. Gave them about to all. The angry Lion did present his paw, Which by consent was given to Mansuetude.* The fearful Hare her ears, which by their law Humility did reach to Fortitude. The jealous Turkey brought his coral chain. That went to Temperance. On Justice was bestowed the Fox's brain. Killed in the way by chance. At length the Crow, bringing the Peacock's plume, (For he would not) as they beheld the grace * Gentleness. The probable meaning of this quaint allegory is, that as the united Virtues dominated the Evil Passions (represented by beasts), while guided by Humility, so, when Pride awoke, and bade them each claim worldly splendour (the peacock's train) "as proper to his place," the Evil Passions would have con- quered them thus divided, had hot Humility preserved them by her tears. THE TEMPLE. Of that brave gift, each one began to fume, And challenge it, as proper to his place, Till they fell out j which, when the beasts espied, They leapt upon the throne ; And if the Fox had lived to rule their side, They had deposed each one. Humility, who held the plume, at this Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down Spoiled all the train ; then saying, " Here it is For which ye wrangle," made them turn their frown Against the beasts ; so, jointly bandying. They drive them soon away ; And then amerced them, double gifts to bring At the next, session day. i-;ut when Thy grace Sues for my heart, I Thee displace ; Nor would I use a friend as I use Thee. Yet can a friend, what Thou hast done fulfil ? O write in brass : " My God upon a tree His blood did spill, Only to purchase my good will : " Yet use I not my foes as I use Thee. x\% 1 MADE a posy,* while the day ran by : Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band. But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they By noon most cunningly did steal away. And withered in my hand. My hand was next to them, and then my heart ; I took, without more thinking, in good part Time's gentle admonition ; Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey. Making my mind to smell my fatal day. Yet sugaring the suspicion '> A nosegay or garland. 148 THE TEMPLE. Farewell, dear flowers, sweetly your tiine ye spent, Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament, And after death for cures. I follow straight without complaints or grief. Since, if my scent be good, I care not if It be as short as yours. JjUT that Thou art my wisdom, Lord, And both mine eyes are Thine, My mind would be extremely stirred For missing my design. Were it not better to bestow Some place and power on me ? Then should Thy praises with me grow, And share in my degree. But when I thus dispute and grieve, I do resume my sight ; "' And pilfering what I once did give. Disseize* Thee of Thy right. How know I, if Thou shouldst me raise, That I should then raise Thee? ' Perhaps great places and Thy praise Do not so well agree. Wherefore unto my gift I stand ; I will no more advise : Only do Thou lend me a hand. Since Thou hast both mine eyes. " Deprive. THE TEMPLE. 149 I CANNOT skill of these Thy ways : Lord, Thou didst make me, yet Thou woundest me : Lord, Thou dost wound me, yet Thou dost relieve me : Lord, Thou relievest, yet I die by Thee : Lord, Thou dost kill me, yet Thou dost reprieve me. But when I mark my life and praise, Thy justice me most fitly pays ; For I do praise Thee, yet I praise Thee not : My prayers mean Thee, yet my prayers stray : I would do well, yet sin the hand hath got : My soul doth love Thee, yet it loves delay. I cannot skill of these my ways. W HO read a chapter when they rise, Shall ne'er be troubled with ill eyes. A poor man's rbd, when thou dost ride, Is both a weapon and a guide. Who shuts his hand, hath lost his gold : Who opens it, hath it twice told. Who goes to bed, and doth not pray, Maketh two nights to ev'ry day. 150 THE TEMPLE. Who by aspersions throw a stone * At the head of others, hit their own. Who looks on ground with humble eyes, Finds himself there, and seeks to rise. When the hair is sweet through pride or lust. The powder doth forget the dust. Take one from ten, and what remains ? Ten still, if sermons go for gains.t In shallow waters heaven doth show ; But who drinks on, to hell may go. My God, I read this day, That planted Paradise was not so firm As was and is Thy floating Ark ; whose stay And anchor Thou art only, to confirm And strengthen it in every age. When waves do rise and tempests rage. At first we lived in pleasure ; Thine own delights Thou didst to us impart : When we grew wanton, Thou didst use displeasure To make us Thine ; yet, that we might not part. As we at first did board with Thee, ' Now Thou wouldst taste our misery. • See "A Priest in the Temple." t An allusion to tithes or the tenth part paid to the Church, but repaid by its ministrations. THE TEMPLE. IS I There is but joy and grief ; If either will convert us, we are Thine : Some angels used the first ; if our relief Take up the second, then Thy double line And several baits in either kind Furnish Thy table to Thy mind. Affliction, dien, is ours ; We are the trees, whom shaking fastens more, While blustering winds destroy the wanton bowers, And ruffle all their curious knots and store. My God, so temper joy and woe. That Thy bright beams may tame Thy bow. ri OW soon doth man decay ! When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets To swaddle infants, whose young breath , Scarce knows the way, Those clouts are little winding-sheets. Which do consign and send them unto death. When boys go first to bed, They step into their voluntary graves : Sleep binds them fast ; only their breath Makes them not dead. Successive nights, like rolling waves. Convey them quickly who are bound for death. When youth is frank and free. And calls for music, while his, veins do swell, All day exchanging mirth and breath In. company; 152 THE TEMPLE. That music summons to the knell Which shall befriend him at the house of death. When man grows staid and wise, Getting a house arid home, where he may move Within the circle of his breath, Schooling his eyes ; That dumb enclosure maketh love Unto the coffin, that attends his death. When age grows low and weak. Marking his grave, and thawing ev'ry year, ^ Till all do melt, and drowri his breath When he would speak ; A chair or litter shovifs the bier Which shall convey him to the house of death. Man, ere he is aware. Hath put together a solemnity, And drest his hearse, while he has breath As yet to spare. Yet, Lord, instruct us so to die That all these dyings may be life in death. J^ta^. bWEET were the days when thou didst lodge with Lot, Struggle with Jacob, sit with Gideon, Advise with Abraham ; when Thy power could not Encounter Moses' strong complaints and moan : Thy words were then, " Let me alone." THE TEMPLE. , IS3 One might have sought and found Thee prfesently At some fair oak, or bush, or cave, or well : " Is my God this way ?" " No," they would reply ; " He is to Sinai gone, as we heard tell : List, ye may hear great i^.aron's bell." But now Thou dost Thyself immure and close In some one corner of a feeble heart ; Where yet both Sin and Satan, Thy old foes, Do pinch and straiten thee, and use much art To gain Thy thirds and little part. I see the world grows old, when as the heat Of Thy great love once spread, as in an urn, Doth closet up itself, and still rgtreat. Cold sin still forcing it, till it return And calling Justice, all things burn. Lord, let the angels praise Thy name. Man is a foolish thing, a foolish thing ! Folly and sin play all his game. His house still burns j and yet he still doth sing, Man is but grass. He knows it, — fill the glass. How canst Thou brook his foolishness ? Why, he'll not lose a cup of drink for Thee : Bid him but temper his excess, — Not he : he knows where he can better be, ■' As lie will swear. Than to serve Thee in fear. IS4 THE TEMPLE. What strange pollutions doth he wed, And make his own ! as if none knew but he. No man shall beat into his head That Thou within his curtains drawn canst see : They are of cloth Where never yet came moth. The best of men, turn but Thy hand For one poor minute, stumble at a pin : They would not have their actions scanned, Nor any sorrow tell them that they sin. Though it be small, And measure not their fall. They quarrel * Thee, and would give over The bargain made to serve Thee ; but Thy love Holds them unto it, and doth cover Their follies with the wing of Thy mild dove, Not sufF'ring those Who would, to be Thy foes. My God, man cannot praise Thy name : Thou art all brightness, perfect purity : The sun holds down his head for shame, Dead with eclipses, when we speak of Thee. How sha:ll infection Presume on Thy perfection ? As dirty hands foul all they touch, And those things most which are most pure and fine ; So our clay hearts, e'en when we crouch To sing Thy praises, make them less divine. . Yet either this Or none Thy portion is. * Quarrel was used in Herbert's time as a verb active. THE TEMPLE. ISS Man cannot serve Thee : let him go And serve the swine : there, there is his delight : He doth not like this virtue, no ; Give him his dirt to wallow in all night ; These preachers make His head to shoot and ache. O foolish man ! where are thine eyes ? How hast thou lost them in a crowd of cares ? Thou pull'st the rug, and wilt not rise, No, not to purchase the whole pack of stars : There let them shine. Thou must go sleep, or dine. The bird that sees a dainty bower Made in the tree where she was wont to sit, Wonders and sings, but not his power Who made the arbour : this exceeds her wit. But man doth know The Spring whence all things flow. And yet as though he knew it not. His knowledge winks, and lets his humours reign : They make his life a constant blot, And all the blood of God to run in vain. Ah, wretch ! what verse Can thy strange ways rehearse ? Indeed at first man was a treasure, A box of jewels, shop of rarities, A ring, whose posy* was " My pleasure : " He was a garden in a Paradise : Glory jtnd grace Did crown his heart and face. * Motto round a ring. 156 THE TEMPLE, But sin hath fooled him. Now he is A lump of flesh, without a foot or wing To raise him to the glimpse of bliss : A sick tossed vessel, dashing on each thing ; Nay, his own shelf :* My God, I mean myself. When first my lines of heavenly joys made mention, Such was their lustre, they did so excel, Tha^ I sought out quaint words and trim invention ; , My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell, Curling with metaphors a plain intention, Decking the sense, as if it were to sell. Thousands of notions in my brain did run, Off'ring their service, if I were not sped : I often blotted what I had begun ; — This was not quick enough, and that was dead. Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the sun. Much less those joys which trample on his head. As flames do work and wind when they ascend, So did I weave myself into the sense. But while I bustled, I might hear a friend Whisper, " How wide is all this long pretence 1 There is in love a sweetness ready penned : Copy out only that, and save expense." * Sand-bank on which he Is wrecked. THE TEMPLE. 157 Of what an easy, quick access, My blessfed Lord, art Thou ! how suddenly May our requests Thine ear invade ! To show that state dislikes not easiness. If I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made : Thou canst no more not hear than Thou canst die. Of what supreme almighty power Is Thy great arm, which spans the east and west, And tacks the centre to the sphere ! By it do all things live their measured hour : We cannot ask the thing which is not there. Blaming the shallowness of our request. Of what unmeasurable love Art Thou possest ! who, when Thou couldst not die, Wert fain to take our flesh and curse. And for our sakes in person sin reprove ; That by destroying that which tied Thy purse. Thou mightst make way for liberality ! Since then, these three wait on Thy throne, Ease, Power, and Love ; I value" prayer so. That were I to leave all but one, Wealth,- fame, endowments, virtues, all should go ; I and dear Prayer would together dwell, And quickly gain, for each inch lost, an ell. 158 THE TEMPLE. My God, if writings may- Convey a lordship any way Whither the buyer and the seller please, Let it not Thee displease If this poor paper (Jo as much as they. On it my heart doth bleed As many lines as there doth need To pass itself and all it hath to Thee. To which I- do agree, And here present it as my special deed. If that hereafter Pleasure Cavil, and claim her part, and measure. As if this passed with a reservation. Or some such words in fashion ; I here exclude the wrangler from Thy treasure. O let Thy sacred will All Thy delight in me fialfil ! Let me not think an action mine own way, But as Thy love shall sway. Resigning up the rudder to Thy skill. lord, what is man to Thee, That Thou shouldst mind a rotten tree ? Yet since Thou canst not choose but see my actions- So great are Thy perfections — Thou may'st as well my actions guide as see. Besides, Thy death and blood Showed a strange love to all our good : THE TEMPLE, 1 59 Thy sorrows were in earnest : no faint proffer, Or superficial offer Of what we might not take, or be withstood. Wherefore I all forego : To one word only I say. No : Where in the deed there was an intimation Of a gift or donation, Lord, let it now by way of purchase go. , He that will pass his land, As I have mine, may set his hand And heart unto this deed, when he hath read ; And make the purchase spread To both our goods, if he to it will stand. How happy were my part. If some kind man would thrust his heart Into these lines ! till in Heaven's court of rolls They were by wingbd souls Entered for both, far above their desert ! r EACE, prattler, do not lour: Not a fair look but thou dost call it foul ; Not a sweet dish but thou dost call it sour; Music to thee doth howl. By listening to thy chatting fears, I have both lost mine eyes and ears. Prattler, no more, I say : My thoughts must work, but like a noiseless sphere. I,6o THE TEMPLE. Harmonious peace must rock them all the day : No room for prattlers there. If thou persistest, I will tell thee That I have physic to expel thee. And the receipt shall be My Saviour's blood : whenever at His board I do but taste it, straight it deanseth me, And leaves thee not a word — No, not a tooth or nail to scratch, And at my actions carp or catch. Yet if thou talkest still, Besides my physic, know there 's some for thee ; Some wood and nails to make a staff or bill For those that trouble me : The bloody cross of my dear Lord Is both my physic and my sword. Lord, with what glory wast Thou served of old, When Solomon's Tfemple stood and flourished ! Where most things were of purest gold ; The wood was all embellished With flowers and carvings, mystical and rare : All showed the builders, craved the seer's care. Yet all this glory, all this pomp and state, Did not affect Thee much — was not Thy aim ; Something there was that sowed debate ; Wherefore Thou quittest Thy ancient claim : THE TEMPLE. l6l And now Thy architecture meets with sin — For all Thy frame and fabric is within. There Thou art struggling with a peevish heart, Which sometimes crosseth Thee, Thou sometimes it ; The fight is hard on either part. Great God doth fig^it— he doth submit. All Solomon's sea of brass* and world of stone Is not so dear to Thep as one good groan. And, truly^ brass and stones are heavy things. Tombs for the dead, not temples fit for Thee ; But groans are quick, and full of wings. And all their motions upward be ; And ever as they mount, like larks they sing : The note is sad, yet music for a King. !|um0* Come, Lord, my head doth bum, my heart is sick, While Thou dost ever, ever stay : Thy long deferrings wound me to the quick, My spirit gaspeth night and day. O show Thyself to me. Or take me up to Thee ! How canst Thou stay, considering the pace The blood did make which Thou didst waste ? When I behold it trickling down Thy face, I never saw thing make such haste. O show Thyself, &c. * See I. Kings vii. 23. 11 1 62 THE TEMPLE. When man was lost, Thy pity looked about, To see what help i' the earth or sky ; But there; was none — at least, no help without : The help did in Thy bosom he. O show Thyself, &c. There lay Thy Son ! — and must He leave that nest, That hive of sweetness, to remove Thraldom from those who would not at a feast Leave one poor apple for Thy love ? O show Thyself, &c. He did. He came : O my Redeemer dear, After all this canst Thou be strange? So many years baptized, and not appear; As if Thy love could fail or change ? O show Thyself, &c. Yet if Thou stayest still, why must I stay ? My God, what is this world to me ? This world of woe ? hence, all ye clouds, away, Away ; I must get up and see. O show Thyself, 6z:c. What is this weary world ? this meat and drink, That chains us by the teeth so fast ? What is this womankind, which I can wink Into a blackness and distaste ? O show Thyself, &c. With one small sigh Thou gavest me th' other day I blasted all the joys about me ; And scowling on them as they pined away, " Now come again," said I, "and flout me." show Thyself, &c. THE TEMPLE. 163 Nothing but drought and dearth, but bush and brake, Which way soe'er I look, I see. Some may dream merrily, but when they wake. They dress themselves and come to Thee. show Thyselfj &c. We talk of harvests ; there are no such things. But when we leave our corn and hay : There is no fruitful year, but that which brings The last and loved, though dreadful day. O show Thyself, &c. O loose this frame, this knot of man untie. That my free soul may use her wing. Which now is pinioned with mortality, As an entangled, hampered thing. O show Thyself, &c. What ' have I left, that I should stay and groan ? The most of me to heav'n is fled : My thoughts and joys are all packed up and gone, And for their old acquaintance plead. P show Thyself, &c. Come, dearest Lord, pass not this holy season. My flesh and bones and joints do pray ; And e'en my verse, when by the rhyme and reason The word is, Stay, says ever. Come. O show Thyself to me. Or take me up to Thee ! l64 THE TEMPLE. 1 JOY, dear Mother, when I view Thy perfect lineaments, and hue Both sweet and bright : Beauty in thee takes up her place, , And dates her letters from thy face, When she doth write. A fine aspect in fit array, Neither too mean nor yet too gay. Shows who is best ; Outlandish looks may not compare ; For all they either painted are, Or else undrest. She on the hills,* which wantonly Allureth^all in hope to be By her preferred, Hath kissed so long her painted shrines, That e'en her face by kissing shines. For her reward. She in the valley t is so shy Of dressing, that her hair doth lie About her ears : While she avoids her neighbour's pride, She wholly goes on th' other side, And nothing wears. But, dearest Mother (what those miss). The mean thy praise and glory is. And long may be. • The Church of Rome. t The Puritan faith. THE TEMPLE. 165 Blessed be God, whose love it was To double-moat thee with His grace, And none but thee. il' 1 HE merry world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together, where I lay. And all in sport to jeer at me. First, Beauty crept into a rose ; Which when I plucked not, " Sir," said she, " Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those ? " But Thou shall answer, Lord, for me. Then Money came, and chinking still, " What tune is this, poor man ? " said he : " I heard in music you had skill j " But Thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. Then came brave Glory puffing by In silks that whistled, who but he ! He scarce allowed me half an eye : But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then came quick Wit and Conversation, And he would needs a comfort be, And, to be short, make an oration ; But Thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. • ,A merry playing upon words. l66 THP: TkMi'LE. Yet when the hour of Thy design To answer these fine things shall come, Speak not at large, — say, " I am thine," And then they have their answer home. i%, Awake, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns ; Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth ; Unfold thy forehead gathered into frowns : Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth : Awake, awake ! And with a thankful heart His comforts take. But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry. And feel His death, but not His victory. ' Arise, sad heart : if thou dost not withstand, Christ's resurrection thine may be : Do not by hanging down break from the hand Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee : Arise, arise ! And with His burial linen dry thine eyes. Christ left Hi^ grave-clothes, that we might, when grief Draws tears or blood, not want a handkerchief. J ESU is in my heart. His sacred name Is deeply cai-ved there : but the other week A great affliction broke the little frame, E'en all to pieces ; which I went to seek : And first I found the corner where was J, After, where ES, and next where U was graved. THE TEMPLE. 167 When I had got these parcels, instantly I sat me down to spell theifi, and perceived That to my broken heart He was "I ease you," And to my whole is JESU. Lx ANST be idle ? canst thou play, ' Foolish soul who sinned to-day? Rivers run, and springs each one Know their home, and get them gone ; Hast thou tears, or hast thou none ? If, poor soul, thou hast no tears, Would thou hadst no faults or fears ! Who hath these, those ill forbears.* Winds still work : it is their plot. Be the season cold or hot : Hast thou sighs, or hast thou not ? If thou hast no sighs or groans. Would thou hadst no flesh and .bones ! Lesser pains 'scape greater ones. But if yet thou idle be, Foolish soul. Who died for thee ? Who did leave His Father's throne, To assume thy flesh and bone ? Had He life, or had He none ? * He who has faults or fears does ill when he forbears from shedding tears. l68 THE TEMPLE. If He had not lived for thee, Thou hadst died most Wretchedly, ^ ^ Aiid two deaths had been thy fee. He so far thy good did plot. That His own self He forgot. Did He die or did He npt? If He had not died for thee, Thou hadst lived in misery. Two lives worse than ten deaths be. And hath any space of breath 'Twfxt his sins and Saviour's death ? He that loseth gold, though dross, Tells to all he meets his cross : He that sins, hath he no loss ? He that finds a silver vein, Thinks on it, and thinks again : Brings thy Saviour's deatli no gain ? Who in heart not ever kneels, Neither sin nor Saviour feels. Sweetest saviour, ifmysoui Were but worth the having, Quickly should I then control Any thought of waving.* * Wavering. THE TEMPLE. . 169 But when all my care and pains Cannot give the name of gains To thy wretch so full of stains, What delight or hope remains ? What (child), is the balance thine ? Thine the poise and measure ? If I say, " Thou shall be mine," Finger not my treasure. What the gains in having thee Do amount to, only He Who for man was sold, can see. That transferred th' accounts to me. But as I can see no merit. Leading to this favour. So the way to fit me for it Is beyond my savour. As the reason, then, is thine, So the way is none of mine : I disclaim the whole design : Sin disclaims and I resign. That is all, if that I could Get without repining \ And my clay, my creature, would Follow my resigning ; That as I did freely part With my glory and desert. Left all joys to feel all smart Ah ! no more : thou break'st my heart. 170 TUB TEMPLE. m. Why do I languish thus, drooping and dull, As if I were all earth ? give me quickness, that I may with mirth Praise Thee brimful ! The wanton lover in a curious strain Can praise his fairest fair, And with quaint metaphors her curled hair Curl o'er again : Thou art my loveliness, my life, my Kght, Beauty alone to me : Thy bloody death, and undeserved, makes Thee Pure red and white. When all perfections as but one appear. That those Thy form doth show. The very dust where Thou dost tread and go Makes beauties here ; Where are my lines, then? my approaches ? views? Where are my window songs ? Lovers are still pretending, and e'en wrongs Sharpen their Muse. But I am lost in flesh, whose sugared lies Still mock me, and grow bold : Sure Thou didst put a mind there, if I could Find where it lies. The temple. i?t Lord, clear Thy gift, that with a constant wit I may but look t'wards Thee : Look only ; for to love Thee, who can be — What angel— fit? As on a window late I cast mine eye, I saw a vine drop grapes with J and C Annealed * on every bunch. One standing by Asked what it meant. I (who am never loth To spend my judgment) said, it seemed to me To be the body and the letters both Of Joy and Charity. " Sir, you have not missed," The man replied; " it figures JESUS CHRIST." ]|up. 1 GAVE to Hope a watch of mine, but he An anchor gave to me. Then an old prayer-book I did present. And he an optic sent. ' With that I gave a phial full of tears, But he a few green ears. Ah, loiterer ! I '11 no more, no moj?e I '11 bring, I did expect a ring.t » Burnt in. t An allegorical poem. The poet gives./«z'j time to Hope ; Hope gives him an anchor, or sure resting-place for hope. He gives prayer ; Hope returns an optic (the name then for a telescope), that he may see into the future. He gives her tears then, and receives a few green ears, the pledge of a future harvest. The poet murmurs because the gift is not a ring, or complete bliss ; but Hope can never give compktioii-^ihaX would banish it. 172 THE TEMPLE. ^\m xmx^. Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am That my offences course it in a ring. My thoughts are working like a busy flame, Until their cockatrice they hatch and bring ; And when they once have perfected their draughts, My words take fire from my inflambd thoughts. My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts, Which spit it forth like the Sicilian hill.* They vent the wares, and pass them with their faults. And by their breathing ventilate the ill. But words suffice not, where are lewd intentions j My hands do join to finish the inventions. My hands do join to finish the inventions, And so my sins ascend three storeyst high. As Babel grew, before there were dissentions. Yet ill deeds loiter not ; for they supply New thoughts of sinning ; wherefore, to my shame, Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am. Meeting with Time, « slack thing," said I, " Thy scythe is dull ; whet it, for shame." " No marvel, sir," he did reply, If it at length deserve some blame ; * ^tna. t By thoughts, words, and actions. THE TEMPLE. 173 But where one man would have me grind it, Twenty for one too sharp do find it." " Perhaps some such of old did pass, Who above all things loved this life ; To whom thy scythe a hatchet was, Which now is but a pruning-knife. Christ's coming hath made man thy debtor. Since by thy cutting he grows better. " And in his blessing thou art blest ; For where thou only wert before An executioner at best, Thou art a gardener now, and more. An usher to convey our souls Beyond the utmost stars and poles. " And this is that makes life so long, While it detains us from our God. E'en pleasures here increase the wrong. And /length of days lengthens the rod. Who wants the place^ where God doth dwell, Partakes already half of hell. " Of what strange length must that needs be, Which e'en eternity excludes ! " Thus far Time heard me patiently; Then chafing said, " This man deludes ; What do I here before his door? He doth not crave less time, but more." 174 THE TEMPLE. \xt{^ihm%. Thou that hast given so much to me, Give one thing more, — a grateful heart. See how thy beggar works on thee By art. He makes Thy gifts occasion more, And says, " If he in this be crost, All Thou hast given him heretofore Is lost." But Thou didst reckon, when at first Thy word our hearts and hands did crave, What it would come to at the worst To save. Perpetual knockings at Thy door, Tears sullying Thy transparent rooms, Gift upon gift ; much would have more, And comes. This notwithstanding, Thou went'st on. And didst allow us all our noise ; Nay, Thou hast made a sigh and groan Thy joys. Not that Thou hast not still above Much better tunes than groans can make ; But that these country airs Thy love Did take. THE TEMPLE. 175 Wherefore I cry, and cry again j And in no quiet canst Thou be, Till I a thankful heart obtain Of Thee. . Not thankful, when it pleaseth me ; As if Thy blessings had spare days ; But such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise. fttn. oWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell ? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave. And asked if Peace were there. A hollow wind did seem to answer, " No ; Go seek elsewhere." I did ; and going did a rainbow note. Surely, thought I, This is the lace of Peace's coat ; I will search out the matter. But while I looked, the clouds immediately Did break and scatter. Then went I to a garden, and did spy A gallant flower. The crown imperial. " Sure," said I, " Peace at the root must dwell." But when I digged I saw a worm devour What showed so well. 176 THE TEMPLE. At length I met a reverend good old man ; Whom when for Peace I did demand, he thus began : " There was a Prince of old At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase Of flock and fold. He sweetly lived ; yet sweetness did not_save His life from foes. But after death out of His grave There sprang twelve stalks of wheat ; * Which many wondering at, got some of those To plant and set. It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse Through all the earth ; For they that taste it do rehearse- That virtue lies therein ; A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth By flight of sin. Take of this grain,t which in my garden grows. And grows for you ; Make bread of it ; and that repose And peace, which everywhere With so much earnestness you do pursue Is only there. * The Apostles. • t The Gospel.' THE TEMPLE. 177 |]jn|^$$t]jm \J WHAT a cunning guest Is this same Grief! within my heart I made Closets ; and in them many a chest j And hke a master in my trade, In those chests, boxes ; in each box, a till ; Yet Grief .knows all, and enters when he will.;' ; No screw, no piercer can Into a piece of timber work and wind, As God's afflictions into man, When He a torture hath designed. They are too subtle for the subtlest hearts. And fall, hke rheums, upon the tenderest partSi We are the earth ; and they. Like moles within us, heave and cast about j And till they foot and clutch their prey. They never cool, much less give out. '• • ' No smith can make such locks, but they have keys ; Closets are halls to them ; and hearts, highways. Only an open breast Doth shut them out, so that they cannot enter ; Or, if they enter, cannot rest. But quickly seek some new adventure. Smooth open hearts no fast'ning have ; but fiction Doth give a hold and handle to affliiction. , Wherefore my faujts and sins, Lord, I acknowledge ; take Thy plagues away : 12 178 THE TEMPLE. For since confession pardon wins, I challenge here the brightest day, The clearest diamond : let them do their best, They shall be thick and cloudy to my breast. O what a thing is man ! how far from power, ' From settled peace and rest ! He is some twenty sev'ral men at least Each sev'ral hour. One while he counts of heaven, as of his treasure; But then a thought creeps in, And calls hira coward, who for fear of sin Will lose a pleasure. Now he will fight it out, and to the warg ; Now eat his bread in peace. And snudge* in quiet : now he scorns increase j ' Now all day spares. He builds a house, which quickly down must go, As if a whirlwind blew And crushed the building: and 'tis partly true, His mind is so. O what a sight were man, if his attires Did alter with his mind. And, like a dolphin's skin, his clothes combined With his desires ! * To lie snug. THE TEMPLE. 179 Surely if eacli one saw another's heart, There would be no commerce, No sale or bargain pass : all would disperse, And live apart. Lord, mend or rather make us : one creation Will not suffice our turn : Except Thou make us daily, we shall spurn Our own salvation. J OY, I did lock thee up ; but some bad man Hath let thee out again ; And now, methinks, I arh where I began Seven years ago : one vogue and vein, One air of thoughts usurps my brain. I did towards Canaan draw ; but now I am Brought back to the Red Sea, the sea of shame. For as the Jews of old by God's command Travelled, and saw no town ; So now each Christian hath his journeys spanned : Their story pens and sets us down. A single deed is small renown. God's Works are wide, and let in future times j His ancient justice overflows our crimes. Then have we too our guardian fires and clouds ;* Our Scripture dew drops fast : * Allusions to the march of Israel through the desert. 12—2 l8o THE TEMPLE. We have our sands and serpents, tents and shrouds : Alas ! our tourmurings come not last. But where 's the cluster ? where 's the taste Of mine inheritance?* Lord, if I must borrow, Let me as well' take up their joy as sorrow. But can he want the grape who hath the wine ? I have their fruit and more. Blessed be God, who prospered Noah's vine, And made it bring forth grapes good store. . But much more Him I must adore Who of the law's sour juice sweet wine did make, E'en God Hiniself, being pressed for my sake.t Jfutt? l[«k«iiutn* UeAR friend, sit down, the tale is long and sad; And in my faintings I presume your love Will more comply than help. A Lord I had. And have, of whom some grounds, which may improve, I hold for two lives, and both lives in me. To Him I brought a dish of fruit one day. And in the middle placed my heart. But He (I sigh to say) Looked on a servant who did know his eye Better than you know me, or (which is one) Than I myself The servant instantly Quitting the fruit, seized on my heart alone, And threw it in a font, wherein did fall A stream of blood, which issued from the side » Alluding to the grapes brought from Canaan by the spies. — Num. xiii. 23. t Isaiah Ixiii. 3. THE TEMPLE. l8l Of a great rock : I well remember all, And have good cause : there it was dipt and dyed, And washed, and wrung : the very wringing yet Enforceth tears. " Your heart was foul, I fear." Indeed ' tis true. I did and do commit Many a fault more than my lease will bear ; Yet still asked pardon, and was not denied. But you shall hear. After my heart was well, And clean and fair, as I one eventide (I sigh to tell) Walked by myself abroad, I saw a large And spacious furnace flaming, and thereon A boiling caldron, round about whose verge Was in great letters set AFFLICTION. The greatness showed the owner. So I went To fetch a sacrifice out of my fold. Thinking with that, which I did thus present, To warm his love, which I did fear grew cold. But as my heart did tender it, the man Who was to take it from me, slipt his hand, And threw my heart into the scalding pan;^- My heart that brought it (do you understand ?) The offerer's heart. " Your heart was hard, I fear." Indeed 't is true. I found a callous matter Began to spread and to expatiate there ; But with a richer drug than scalding water I bathed it often, e'en with holy blood. Which at a board, while many drank baje wine, A friend did steal into my cup for good. E'en taken inwardly, and most divine To supple hardnesses. But at the length Out of tlie caldron getting, soon I fled Unto my house, where to repair the strength ' 152 THE TEMPLE. Which I had lost, I hasted to my bed ; But when I thought to sleep out all these faults, s (I sigh to speak) I found that some had stuffed the bed with thoughts, I would say thorns. Dear, could my heart not break, When with my pleasures e'en my rest was gone ? Full well I understood Who had been there ; For I had given the key to none, but One : It must be He. "Your heart was dull, I fear." Indeed a slack and sleepy state of mind Did oft possess me, so that when I prayed. Though my lips went, my heart did stay behind. But all my scores were by Another paid. Who took the debt upon Him. " Truly, friend, For ought I hear, your Master shows to you More favour than you wot of. Mark the end. The font did only what was old renew : The caldron suppled what was grown too hard : The thorns did quicken what was grown too dull : All did but strive to mend what you had marred. Wherefore be cheered, and praise Him to the full Each day, each hour, each moment of the week, Who fain would have you be new, tender, quick." \m% xIaRK, how the birds do sing. And woods do ring ! All creatures have their joy, and man hath his. Yet if rightly measure, Man's joy and pleasure Rather hereafter than in present is. THE TEMPLE. 1 83 To this life things of sense Mak^. their pretence : In th' other angels have a right by birth : Man ties them both alone, And makes them one, With th' one hand touching heaven, with th' other earth. In soul ' he mounts and flies, In flesh he dies. He wears a stuff whose thread is coarse and round, But trimmed with curious' lace. And should take place After the trimming, not the stuff" and ground. Not. that he may not here ,;,, - , Taste of the cljiieer; ; But as birds dnnk, and straight ^ft up their head, , So must he sip, and think ,: Of better, drink He may attain to after he is dead. But as his joys are double, , , , . ^ So is his trouble. He hajth ,two winters, other things but one ; Both frosts and thoughts do nip And bite his lip ; And he of all things fears two deaths alone. Yet even the greatest griefs May be reliefs,. Could he, but take them right, and in their ways. Happy is he whose heart Hath found the art To turn his double pains to double praise, 1 84 THE TEMPLE. )|i %ht%. i F as the winds and waters here below , i; Do fly and flow,, My sighs and tears as busy were above, Sure they would move And much affect Thee, as tempestuous times Amaze poor itiortals, and object* their crimes. Stars have their storms, e'en in a high degree, As well as we. A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse Hath a strange force ; It quits the earth, and mounting more and more, Dares to assault thee, and besiege thy door. There it stands knocking, to thy music's wrong, And drowns the song. Glory and honour are set by till it An answer get. Poets have wronged poor storms : such days are best; They purge the -air without ; within, the breast. 1 BLESS Thee, Lord, because I grow Among Thy trees, which in a row To Thee both fruit and order ow. * Recall their crimes to mind ; accuse, THE TEMPLE. 185 What open force, or hidden charm Can blast my fruit, or bring me harm, While the inclosure is Thine arm. Inclose me still for fear I start. Be to me rather- sharp and tart, Than let me want Thy hand and art. When Thou dost greater judgments spare. And with Thy knife but prune and pare, E'en fruitful trees more fruitful are. Such sharpness shows the sweetest friend : Such cuttings rather heal than rend : And such beginnings touch their end, )|$ i|$i|tiit* r OOR heart, lament. For since thy God refuseth still. There is some rub, some discontent, Which cools His will. Thy Father could Quickly effect what thou dost move ; For He is Power; and sure He would, For He is Love. Go search this thing, Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book : If thou hadst lost a glove or ring, Wouldst thou not look? I86 THE TEMPLE. What do I see Written above there? Yesterday I did behave me carelessly, When I did pray. And should God's ear To such indifferents ehainfed be, Who do not their own motions hear ? Is God less free ? But stay ! what 's there ? Late when I would have something done, I had a motion to forbear, Yet I went on. And should God's ear, Which needs not man, be tied to those Who hear not Him, but quickly hear His utter foes ? Then once more pray : , :•■ Down ^Y;th thy knees, up with thy voice : Seek pai Ion first, and God will say, Glad heart, rejoice. As men, for fear the stars should sleep and nod, And trip at night, have spheres supplied j As if a star were duller than a clod. Which knows his way without a guide : THE TEMPLE. 187 Just SO the other heaven they also serve, Divinity's transcendent sky, Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve. Reason triumphs, and Faith lies by. Could not that wisdom, which first broached the wine. Have thickened it with-definitions ? And jagged His seamless coat, had that been fine. With curious questions and divisions ? But all the doctrine, which He taught and gave. Was clear as heaven, from whence it came. At least those beams of truth, which only save. Surpass in brightness any flame. "Love God, and love your neighbour. Watch and pray. Do as you v.'ould be done unto." O dark instructions, e'en as dark as day ! Who can these Gordian knots undo ? But He doth bid us take His blood for wine. Bid what He please ; yet I am sure. To take and taste what He doth there design^ Is all that saves, and not obscure. Then burn thy Epicycles, fooKsh man ! Break all thy spheres, and save thy head : Faith needs no staff of flesh, but stoutly can To heaven alone both go and lead. THE TEMPLE. O SACRED Providence, who from end to end Strongly and sweetly raovest ! shall I write, And not of Thee, through whom my fingers bend To hold my quill ? shall they not do Thee right ? Of all the creatures both in sea and land. Only to man Thou hast made known Thy ways, And put the pen alone into his hand, And made him secretary of Thy praise. Beasts fain would sing ; birds ditty to their notes ; Trees would be tuning on their native lute To Thy renown ; but all their hands and throats Are brought to man, while they are lame and mu1:e. Man is the world's high priest : he doth present The sacrifice for all ; ^hile they below Unto the service mutter an assent. Such as springs use that fall, and winds that blow. He that to praise and laud Thee doth refrain, — Doth not refrain unto himself alone. But robs a thousand who' would praise Thee fain, And doth commit a world of sin in one. The beasts say, " Eat me ; " but, if beasts must teach, The tongue is yours to eat, but Mine to praise. The trees say, " Pull me ; " but the hand you stretch Is Mine to write, as it is yours to raise. THE TEMPLE. 189 Wherefore, most sacred Spirit, I here present For me and all my fellows praise to Thee ; And just it is that I should pay the rent. Because the benefit accrues to me. We all acknowledge both Thy power and love To be exact, transcendent, and divine. Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move. While all things have their will, yet none but Thine. For either Thy command or Thy permission Lays hands on all : they are Thy right and left ; The first puts on with speed and expedition ; The other curbs sin's stealing pace and theft. Nothing escapes them both : all must appear, And be disposed, ^and dressed, and tuned by Thee, Who sweetly temperest all. If we could hear Thy skill and art, what music would it be ! Thou art in small things great, not small in any ; Thy even praise can neither rise nor fall. Thou art in all things one, in each thing many. For Thou art infinite in one and all. Tempests are calm to Thee, they know Thy hand, And hold it fast, as children do their father's, Which cry and follow. Thou hast made poor sand Check the proud sea, e'en when it swells and gathers. Thy cupboard serves the world : the meat is set Where all may reach : no beast but knows his feed. Birds teach us hawking ; fishes have their net : The great prey on the less, they on some weed. I go THE TEMPLE. Nothing engendered doth prevent* his meat : Flies have their table spread ere they appear ; Some creatures have in winter what to eat ; Others do sleep, and envy not their cheer. How finely dost Thou times and seasons spin, Ahd make a twist, checkered with night and day ! Which, as it lengthens, winds, and winds us in, . As bowls go on, but turning all the way. Each creature hath a wisdom for his good. The pigeons feed their tender offspring, crying, When they are callow ; but withdraw their food When they are fledged, that need may teach them flying. Bees work for man ; and yet they never bruise Their master's flower, but leave it, having done, As fair as ever,t and as fit to use ; So both the flower doth stay, and honey run. Sheep eat the grass, and dung the ground for more ; Trees after bearing drop their leaves for soil ; Springs vent their streams, and by expense get store ; Clouds cool by heat, and baths by cooling boil. Who hath the virtue to express the rare And curious virtues both of herbs and stones ? Is there an herb for that ? O that Thy care Would show a root that gives expressions ! And if an herb hath power, what have the stars ">% A rose, besides his beauty, is a cure.§ * Come before. t Fairer. According to Sir John Lubbock, the bee adds beauty to the flower. } In ruling man's fate. § Red roses are tonics. THE TEMPLE. 191 Doubtless, our plagues and plenty, peace and wars, Are there much surer than our art* is sure. Thou hast hid metals ; man may take them thence, But at his peril : when he digs the place. He makes a grave — as if the thing had sense, And threatened man, that he should fill the space. E'en poisons praise Thee ! Should a thing be lost ? Should creatures want, for want of heed, their due ? Since where are poisons, antidotes are most ; The help stands close, and keeps the fear in view. The sea, which seems to stop the traveller. Is by a ship the speedier passage made. The winds, who think they rule the mariner. Are ruled by him, and taught to serve his trade. And as Thy house is full, so I adore Thy curious art in marshalling Thy goods. The hills with health abound, the vales with store \ The south with marble; north with furs and woods. Hard things are glorious ; easy things, good cheap ; The common all men have ; that which is rare Men therefore seek to have, and care to keep. The healthy frosts with summer fruits compare; Light without wind is glass ; warm without weight Is wool and furs ; cool without closeness, shade ; Speed without pains, a horse ; tall without height, A servile hawk; low without loss, a spade. All countries have enough to serve their need; If they seek fine things,. Thou dost make them run "* The art of astrology. i^2 THE TEMPLE. For their offence ; and then dost turn their speed To be commerce and trade from sun to sun. Nothing wears clothes but man ; nothing doth need But he to wear them. Nothing useth fire But man alone, to show his heavenly breed ; And only he hath fuel in desire. When the earth was dry, Thou madest a sea of wet ; When that lay gathered, Thou didst broach* the mountains; When yet some places could no moisture get, The winds grew gardeners, and the clouds good fountains. Rain ! do not hurt my flowers ; but gently spend Your honey drops : press not to smell them here ; When they are ripe, their odour will ascend. And at your lodging with their thanks, appear. How harsh are thorns to pears ! and yet they make A better hedge, and need less reparation. How smooth are silks, compared with a stake Or with a stone ! yet make no good foundation. ^ Sometimes Thou dost divide Thy gifts to man, Sometiiiies unite. The Indian nut alone Is clothing, meat and trencher, drink and can, Boat, cable, sail, and needle — all in one. Most herbs that grow in brooks are hot and dry ; Cold fruits' warm kernels help against the" wind ; The lemon's juice and rind cure mutually; The whey of milk doth loose, the milk doth bind. • To pierce or tap ; meaning, to produce rivers. THE TEMPLE. 193 Thy creatures leap not, but express a feast, Where all the guests sit close, and nothing wants. Frogs marry* fish and flesh; bats, birds and beast; Sponges, non-sense and sense ; mines, th' earth and plants. To show Thou art not bound, as if Thy lot Were worse than ours, sometimes Thou shiftest hands. Most things move the under jaw ; the crocodile not. Most things sleep lying ; the elephant leans or stands. But who hath praise enough ? nay, who hath any ? None can express Thy works but he that knows them ; And none can know Thy works, which are so many, And so complete, but only He that owest them. All things that are, though they have several ways, Yet in their being join with one advice To honour Thee ; and so I give Thee praise In all my other hymns, but in this twice. Each thing that is, although in use and name It go for one, hath many ways in store To honour Thee ; and so each hymn Thy fame Extolleth many ways, yet this one more. \ymxiA itt. ^0* Grieve not the Holy Spirit, etc. And art thou grieved, sweet and sacred Dove, When I am sour, And cross Thy love ? * Unite ; are the connecting-link, t Owns. J 3 194 THE TEMPLE. Grievfed for me ? the God of strength and power Grieved for a worm, which when I tread, I pass away and leave it dead ? Then weep, mine eyes, the God of love doth grieve : Weep, foolish heart, And weeping live ; For death is dry as dust. Yet if ye part. End as the night, whose sable hue Your sins express; — melt into dewi When saucy mirth shall knock or call at door, Cry out. Get hence. Or cry no more. AlmightyiGod doth grieve, He puts on sense: I sin not to my grief alone. But to my God's too ; He doth groan. O, take thy lute, and tune it to a strain Which may with thee All day complain. There can no discord but in ceasing be. Marbles can weep ; and surely strings More bowels have than such hard things. Lord, I adjudge myself to tears and grief, E'en endless tears Without relief. If a clear spring for me no time forbears, But runs, although I be not dry; I am no crystal, what shall I ? Yet if I wail not still, since still to wail Nature denies ; And flesh would fail, THE TEMPLE. 1 95 If my deserts were masters of mine eyes : Lord, pardon ! for Thy Son makes good My want of tears with store of blood. )|s !i[nmtl^. What doth this noise of thoughts within my heart, As if they had a part ? What do these loud complaints and pulling fears. As if there were no rule or ears ? But, Lord, the house and family are Thine, Though some of them repine. Turn out these wranglers, which defile Thy seat; For where Thou d\\^ellest all is neat. First Peace and Silence all disputes control, Then Order plays* the soul. And giving all things their set forms and hours. Makes of wild woods sweet walks and bowers. Humble Obedience near the door doth stand, Expecting a command ; Than whom in waiting nothing seems more slow, Nothing more quick when she doth go. Joys oft are there, and griefs as oft as joys. But griefs without a noise ; Yet speak they louder than distempered fears : What is so shrill as silent tears ? * Plays upon ; attunes. 196 THE TEMPLE. This is Thy house, with these it doth abound ; And where these are not found, Perhaps Thou comest sometimes, and for a day, But not to make a constant stay. Content thee, greedy heart ! Modest and moderate joys to those that have Title to more hereafter when they part. Are passing brave. Let th' upper springs into the low Descend and fall, and thou dost flow. What though some have a fraught* Of cloves and nutmegs, and in cinnamon sail ? If thou hast wherewithal to spice a draught When griefs prevail, And for the future time art heir To the isle of spices, is't not fair ? To be in both worlds full Is more than God was, wh& was hungry here. Wouldst thou His laws of fasting disannul ? Enact good cheer ? Lay out thy joy, yet hope to save it? Wouldst thou both eat thy cake, and have it? Great joys are all at once. But little do reserve themselves for more : ' Freight. THE TEMPLE. 1 97 Those have their hopes ; these what they have renounce, And Hve on score : Those are at home ; these journey still, And meet the rest on Zion's hill. Thy Saviour sentenced joy, And in the flesh condemned it as unfit, At least in lump ; for such doth oft destroy J Whereas a bit Doth 'tice us on to hopes ofmore. And for the present health restore. A Christian's state and case Is not a corpulent, but a thin and spare. Yet active strength ; whose long and bony face Content and care Do seem to equally divide, Like a pretender, not a bride. Wherefore sit down, good heart ; Grasp not at much, for fear thou losest all. If comforts fell according to desert. They would great frosts and snows destroy : For we should count — since the last joy. Then close again the seam Which thou hast opened ; do not spread thy robe In hope of great things. Call to mind thy dream, An earthly globe, On whose meridian was engraven, " These seas are tears, and hjsaven the haven." 1 98 THE TEMPLE. %xm\xvi. As I one evening sat before my cell, Methought a star did shoot into my lap. I rose, and shook my clothes, as knowing well That from small fires comes oft no small mishap ; When suddenly I heard one say, " Do as thou usest, disobey : Expel good motions from thy breast, Which have theface of fire, but end in rest." I, wh6 had heard of music in the spheres^ But not of speech in stars, began to muse ; But turning to my God, whose ministers The stars and all things are : " If I refuse, Dread Lord," said I, " so oft my good, Then I refuse not e'en with blood To wash away my stubborn thought ; For I will do or suffej what I ought. " But I have also stars and shooters too. Born where Thy servants both artilleries use. My tears and prayers night and day do woo And work up to Thee ; yet Thou dost refuse. Not but I am (I must say still) Much more obliged to do Thy will Than Thou to grant mine ; but because Thy promise now hath e'en set Thee Thy laws. " Then we are shooters both, and Thou dost deign To enter combat with us, and contest THE TEMPLE. 199 With Thine own clay. But I would parley fain : Shun not my aiTows, and behold my breast. Yet if Thou shunnest, I am Thine : I must be so, if I am mine. There is no articling with Thee : I am but finite, yet Thine infinitely. IjRAVE rose, alas ! where art thou? in the chair Where thou didst lately so triumph and shine, A worm doth sit, whose many feet and hair Are the more foul, the more thou wert divine. • This, this hath done it, this did bite the root And bottom of the leaves ; which, when the wind Did once perceive, it blew them underfoot. Where rude unhallowed steps do crush and grind Their beauteous glories. Only shreds of thee. And those all bitten, in thy chair I see. Why doth my Mother blush ? Is she the rose, And shows it so ? Indeed, Christ's precious blood Gave you a colour once ; which when your foes Thought to let out, the bleeding did^you good,* And made you look much fresher than before. But when debates and fretting jealousies t bid worm and work within you more and rriore, Your colour faded, and calamities Turned your ruddy into pale and bleak : Your health and beauty both began to break. '* Martyrdoms. t Schisms. THE TEMPLE. Then did your several parts unloose and start ; Which when your neighbours saw, like a north wind They rushed in, and cast them in the dirt Where Pagans tread. O Mother dear and kind ! Where shall I get me eyes enough to weep, As many eyes as stars ? since it is night, And much of Asia and Europe fast asleep. And e'en all Africk ! would at least I might With these two poor ones lick up all the dew Which falls by night, and pour it out for you ! O DREADFUL justice, what a fright and terror Wast thou of old. When sin and error Did show and shape thy looks to me. And through their glass discolour thee ! He that did but look up was proud and bold. The dishes of thy balance seemed to gape, Like two great pits ; The beam and scape Did like some tottering engine show; Thy hand above did burn and glow. Daunting the stoutest hearts, the proudest wits. But now that Christ's pure veil presents the sight, I see no fears ; Thy hand is white. Thy scales like buckets, which attend And interchangeably descend. Lifting to heaven from this well of tears. THE TEMPLE. 201 For where before thou still didst call on me, Now I still touch And harp on thee. God's promises hath made thee mine : Why should I justice now decline? Against me there is none, but for me much. Ws^% JHigrtmajs* I TRAVELLED on, seeing the hill where lay My expectation. A long it was and weary way. The gloomy cave of Desperation I left on the one, and on the other side The rock of Pride. And so I came to Fancy's meadow, strowed With many a flower ; Fain would I hei-e have made abode, But I was quickened by my hour. So to Care's copse I came, and there got through With much ado. That led me to the wild of Passion, which Some call the wold ; A wasted place, but sometimes rich. Here I was robbed of all my gold, Save one good angel,* which a friend had tied Close to my side. • A gold angel was a piece of money of the value of ten shillings, bearing the figure of an angel. 202 THE TEMPLE. At length I got unto the gladsome hill, * Where lay my hope, Where lay my heart ; and climbing still, When I had gained the brow and top, A lake of brackish waters on the ground Was all I found. With that, abashed and struck with many a sting Of swarming fears, I fell, and cried, " Alas, my King ! Can both the way and end be tears?" Yet taking heart, I rose, and then perceived I was deceived. My hill was farther ; so I flung away. Yet heard a cry Just as I went, — " None goes that way And lives." " If that be all," said I, "After so foul a journey death is fair, And but a chair." t 1|« !|ti}h-Ik$i I THREATENED to observe the strict decree Of my dear God with all my power and might ; But I was told by one it could not be ; Yet I might trust in God to be my light. "Then will I trust," said I, "in Him alone : Nay, e'en to trust in Him was also His : * Every reader will be struck by the outline here presented of the "Pilgrim's Progress. " It was written when Bunyan was still an infant. t A rest. THE TEMPLE. 203 We must confess that nothing is our own ; Then I confess that He my succour is." But to have nought is ours, not to confess That we have nought. I stood amazed at this, Much troubled, till I heard a friend express That all things were more ours by being His. What A.dam had, and forfeited for all, Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall. iitmplammg. JUo not beguile my heart, Because Thou art My power and wisdom. 'Put me not to shame, Because I am Thy clay that weeps. Thy dust that calls. Thou art the Lord of glcry ; The deed and story Are both Thy due ; but I a silly fly. That live or die According as the weather falls. Art Thou all justice, Lord ? Shows "not Thy Word More attributes? Am I all throat or eye. To weep or cry ? Have I no parts but those of grief? Let not Thy wrathful power Afflict my hour, 204 THE TEMPLE. My inch of life ; or let Thy gracious power Contract my hour, That I may climb and find relief. 1|$ Jm^itrgg. JduSY inquiring heart, what wouldst thou know? Why dost thou piy, And turn, and leer, and with a licorous* eye Look high and low, And in thy lookings stretch and grow? Hast thou not made thy counts, and summed up all? Did not thy heart Give up the whole, and with the whole depart ? Let what will fall ; That which is past who can recall ? Thy life is God's, thy time to come is gone, And is His right. ' He is thy night at noon ; He is at night Thy noon alone. The crop is His, for He hath sown. And well it was for the'e when this befell, That God did make Thy business His, and in thy life partake ; For thou canst tell, If it be His once, all is well. • Desiring. THE TEMPLE. 205 Only the present is thy part and fee. And happy thou If, though thou didst not beat thy future brow, Thou couldst well see What present things required of thee. They ask enough : why shouldst thou further go ? Raise not the mud Of future depths, but drink the clear and good. Dig not for woe In times to come, for it will grow.* Man and the present fit : if he provide, He breaks the square. This hour is mine : if for the next I care, I grow too wide. And do encroach upon death's side. For death each hour environs and surrounds. He that would know And care for future chances, cannot go Unto those grounds But thro' a churchyard which them bounds. Things present shrink and die ; but they that spend Their thoughts and sense On future grief, do not remove it thence, But it extend. And draw the bottom out an end. God chains the dog till night : wilt loose the chain, And wake thy sorrow ? • Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.— 5. Matt. vi. 34. 206 THE TEMPLE. Wilt thou forestall it, and now grieve to-morrow, And then again Grieve over freshly all thy pain ? Either grief will not come ; or if it must, Do not forecast ; And while it cometh, it is almost past. Away, distrust ! ' My God hath promised ; He is just. am. King of Glory, King of Peace, I will love Thee ; And that love may never cease, I will move Thee. Thou hast granted my request, Thou hast heard me : Thou didst note my working, breast. Thou hast spared me. Wherefore with my utmost art I will sing Thee, And the cream of all my heart I will bring Thee. Though my sins against me cried. Thou didst clear me ; And alone, when they replied, Thou didst hear me. THE TEMPLE. 207 Seven whole days, not one in seven, I will praise Thee. In ray heart, though not in heaven, I can raise Thee. Thou grew'st soft and moist with tears, Thou relentedst. And when Justice called for fears. Thou dissentedst. Small it is, in this poor sort To enrol Thee : E'en eternity is too short To extol Thee. %xi i%tn]5* UOME, bring thy gift. If blessings were as slow As men's returns, what would become of fools ? What hast thou there ? a heart ? but is it pure ? Search well and see ; for hearts have many holes. Yet one pure heart is nothing to bestow : In Christ two natures met to be thy cure. O that within us hearts had propagation, Since many gifts do challenge many hearts ! Yet one, if good, may title to a number; And single things grow fruitful by deserts. In public judgments one may be a nation,* And fence a plague, while others sleep and slumber. * By prayer and individual obedience a nation is preserved. 2o8 THE TEMPLE. But all I fear is, lest thy heart displease, As neither good nor one : so oft divisions Thy lusts have made, and not thy lusts alone,— " Thy passions also have their set partitions. These parcel out thy heart : recover these, And thou may'st offer many gifts in one. There is a balsam, or indeed a blood. Dropping from heaven, which doth both cleanse and close All sorts of wounds ; of stich strange force it is. ; Seek out this All-heal, and seek no repose Until thou find, and use it to thy good : Then bring thy gift, and let thy hymn be this : gINCE my sadness Into gladness, Lord, Thou dost convert, O accept What Thou hast kept, As Thy due desert. Had I many. Had I any, (For this heart is none) All were Thine And none of mine, Surely Thine alone. Yet Thy favour May give savour To this poor oblation ; And it raise To be Thy praise, And be my salvation. THE TEMPLE. 209 Ju«9J«3> With sick and famished eyes, With doubling knees and weary bones, To Thee my cries, To Thee my groans. To Thee my sighs, my tears ascend : No end ? My throat, my soul is hoarse ; My heart is withered like a ground Which Thou dost curse. My thoughts turn round. And make me giddy : Lord, I fall, Yet call. From Thefe all pity flows. Mothers are kind, because Thou art. And dost dispose To them a part : Their infants them, and they suck Thee More free. Bowels of pity, hear ! Lord of my soul, love of my mind, Bow down Thine ear ! Let not the wind Scatter my words, and in the same Thy name ! Look on my sorrows round ! Mark well my furnace 1 what flames, 14 THE TEMPLE. What heats abound ! What griefs, what shames ! Consider, Lord j Lord, bow Thine ear, And hear! Lord Jesu, Thou didst bow Thy dying head upon the tree : O be not now More dead to me ! Lord, hear ! Shall He that made the ear Not hear? Behold, Thy dust doth stir; It moves, it creeps, it aims at Thee : Wilt Thou defer To succour me. Thy pile of dust, wherein each crumb Says, Come? To Thee help appertains. Hast Thou left all things to their course, And laid the reins Upon the horse ? Is all locked ? hath a sinner's plea No key ? Indeed the world 's Thy book. Where all things have their leaf assigned ; Yet a meek look Hath interlined. Thy board is full, yet humble guests Find nests. Thou tarriest, while I die iVrid fall to nothing : Thou dost reign. THE TEMPLE. 211 And rule on high, While I remain In bitter grief; yet am I styled Thy child. Lord, didst Thou leave Thy throne. Not to relieve ? how can it be That Thou art grown Thus hard to me ? Were sin alive, good cause there were To bear. But now both sin is dead, And all Thy promises live and bide. - That wants his head ; These speak and chide, And in Thy bosom pour my tears. As theirs. Lord JESU, hear my heart, Which hath been broken now so long, That eVry part Hath got a tongue ! Thy beggars grow ; rid them away To-day. My love, my sweetness, hear ! By these Thy feet, at which my heart Lies all the year. Pluck out Thy dart, And heal my troubled breast which cries. Which dies. 14—2 21 i THE TEMPlR. )|a lag. Away, despair ; my gracious Lord doth hear, Though winds and waves assault my keel, He doth preserve it : He doth steer, E'en when the boat seems most to reel. Storms are the triumph of His art : Well may He close His eyes, but not His heart.* Hast thou not heard that my Lord JESUS died? Then let me tell thee a strange story. . The God of power as He did ride In His majestic robes of glory, Resolved to 'light,+ and so one day He did descend, undressing all the way. The stars His tire of light and rings obtained, The cloud His bow, the fire His spear, The sky His azure mantle gained. And when they asked what He would wear, He smiled and said as He did go, He had new clothes a-making here below. When He was come, as travellers are wont. He did repair unto an inn. Both then and after, many a brunt He did endure to cancel sin ; And having given the rest before. Here He gave up His life to pay our score. " St. Matt. viii. 24. t Alight ; descend. THE TEMPLE. 213 But as He was returning there came one That ran upon Him with a spear. He who came hither all alone, Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear, Received the blow upon His side. And straight He turned and to His brethren cried, " If ye have anything to send or write (I have no bag, but here is room) Unto my Father's hands and sight, (Believe me) it shall safely come. ' That I shall mind what you impart, Look, you may put it very near my heart, " Or if hereafter any of my friends Will use me in this kind, the door Shall still be open ; what he sends I will present, and somewhat more. Not to his hurt. Sighs will convey Anything to me. Hark, despair, away ! " t |i$ttt$. r OOR nation, whose sweet sap and juice Our scions have purloined and left you dry; Whose streams we got by the Apostles' sluice, And use in baptism, while ye pine and die ; Who by not keeping once became a debtor, And now by keeping lose the letter. O that my prayers ! — mine, alas ! — ■ that some angel might a trumpet sound, 814 THE TEMPLE. At which the Church, falling upon her face, Should cry so loud until the trump were drowne^, And by that cry of her dear Lord obtain That your sweet sap might come again ! )|b iall»n I STRUCK the board and cried, " No more ! I will abroad. What, shall I ever sigh and pine ? My lines and life are free ; free as the road, Loose as the wind, as large as store. Shall I be still in suit ? Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood, and not restore What I have lost with cordial fruit ? Sure there was wine Before my sighs did dry it : there was com Before my tears did drown it. Is the year only lost to me ? Have I no bays to crown it ? No flowers, no garlands gay ? All blasted ? All wasted ? Not so, my heart ; but there is fruit, And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures ; leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not ; forsake thy cage. Thy rope of sands, Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw, And be thy law, THE TEMPLE. 215 While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away, take heed : I will abroad. Call in thy death's head there : tie up thy fears. He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load." But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild At every word, Methought I heard one calling, " Child ! " And I replied, " My Lord ! " )]^$ iHtnp$f> Whither away, delight? Thou earnest but now ; wilt thou so soon depart, And give me up to night ? For many weeks of lingering pain and smart, But one half-hour of comfort for ihy heart ? Methinks delight should have More skill in music, and keep better time. Wert thou a wind or wave, They quickly go and come with lesser crime : Flowers look about, and die not in their prime. Thy short abode and stay Feeds not, but adds to the desire of meat. Lime begged of old (they say) A neighbour spring to cool his inward heat, Which by the spring's access grew much more great. 2l6 THE TEMPLE. In hope of thee my heart Picked here and there a crumb, and would not diej But constant to his part, When as my fears foretold this, did reply, "A slender thread a gentle guest will tie." Yet if the heart that wept Must let thee go, return when it doth knock. Although thy heap be kept For future times, the droppings of the stock May oft break forth, and never break the lock. If I have more to spin, The wheel shall go so that thy stay be short. Thou know'st how grief and sin Disturb the work. O make me not their sport. Who by thy coming may be made a court ! %%tmmx% O SPITEFUL bitter thought ! Bitterly spiteful thought ! Couldst thou invent So high a torture ? Is such poison bought ? Doubtless, but in the way of punishment, When wit contrives to meet with thee, No'such rank poison can there be. Thou saidst but even now That all was not so fair as I conceived Betwixt my God and me ; that I allow And coin large hopes ; but that I was deceived : Either the league was broke or near it, And that I had great cause to fear- it, THE TEMPLE. 217 And what to this ? What more Could poison, if it had a tongue, express ? What is thy aim ? Wouldst thou unlock the door To cold despairs and gnawing pensiveness ? Wouldst thou raise devils ? I see, I know, I writ thy purpose long ago. But I will to my Father, Who heard thee say it. O most gracious Lord, If all the hope and comfort that 1 gather Were from myself, I had not half a word, Not half a letter to oppose What is objected by my foes. But Thou art my desert ; And in this league, which now my foes invade, TIiou art not only to perform Thy part. But also mine; as when the league was made, Thou didst at once Thyself indite,- And hold my hand, while I did write. Wherefore, if Thou canst fail. Then can Thy truth and I ; but while rocks stand And rivers stir. Thou canst not shrink or quail ; Yea, when both rocks and all things shall disband. Then shalt Thou be my rock and tower. And make their ruin praise Thy power. Now, foolish thought, go on, Spin out thy thread, and make thereof a coat To hide thy shame ; for thou hast cast a bone. Which bounds on thee, and will not down thy throat. What for itself love once began. Now love and truth will end in man. 2l8 THE TEMPLE. )|$ inE Come, my way, my Truth, my Life : Such a Way as gives us breath : Such a Truth as ends all strife : Such a Life as killeth death. Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength : Such a Light as shows a feast : Such a Feast as mends in length : Such a Strength as makes his guesfe Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart : Such a Joy as none can move : Such a Love as none can part : Such a Heart as joys in love. Lord, Thou art mine, and I am Thine, If mine I am ; and Thine much more, Than I or ought or can be mine. Yet to be Thine doth me restore ; So that again I now am mine. And with advantage mine the more. Since this being mine brings with it Thine, And Thou with me dost Thee restore. If I without Thee would be mine, I neither should be mine nor Thine. THE TEMPLE. 219 Lord, I am Thine, and Thou art mine : So mine Thou art, that something more I may presume Thee mine than Thine, For Thou didst suffer to restore Not Thee, but me, and to be mine ; And with advantage mine the more. Since Thou in death wast none of Thine, Yet then as mine didst me restore. O be mine still ! still make me Thine, Or rather make no Thine and mine ! J-