With sense thereof, while thy so softened spirit
Is inly touched and humbled with meek zeal,
Through meditation of his endless merit,
Lift up thy mind to th' Author of thy weal,
And to his sovereign mercy do appeal;
Learn Him to love that loved thee so dear,
And in thy breast his blessed image bear.
With all thy heart, with all thy soul and mind,
Thou must Him love, and his behests embrace;
All other loves with which the world doth blind
Weak fancies, and stir up affections base,
Thou must renounce and utterly displace,
And give thyself unto Him full and free,
That full and freely gave Himself to thee.
Then shalt thou feel thy spirit so possessed,
And ravished with devouring great desire
Of his dear self, that shall thy feeble breast
Inflame with love, and set thee all on fire
With burning zeal through every part entire,
That in no earthly thing thou shalt delight
But in his sweet and amiable sight.
Thenceforth all world's desire will in thee die,
And all earth's glory on which men do gaze Seem dust and dross in thy pure-sighted eye,
Compared to that celestial beauty's blaze,
Whose glorious beams all fleshly sense doth daze
With admiration of their passing light,
Blinding the eyes and lumining the sprite.
Then shall thy ravished soul inspired be,
With heavenly thoughts, far above human skill;
And thy bright radiant eyes shall plainly see
Th' idea of his pure glory present still
Before thy face, that all thy spirit shall fill
With sweet enragement of celestial love,
Kindled through sight of those fair things above.
RAPT with the rage of mine own ravished thought,
Through contemplation of these goodly sights
And glorious images, in heaven wrought,
Whose wondrous beauty breathing sweet delights,
Doth kindle love in high-conceived sprites;
I fain to tell the things that I behold,
But feel my wits to fail and tongue to fold.
Vouchsafe, then, O thou most Almighty Sprite,
From whom all gifts of wit and knowledge flow,
To shed into my breast some sparkling light
Of thine eternal truth, that I may show
Some little beams to mortal eyes below,
Of that immortal Beauty, there with Thee,
Which in my weak distraughted mind I see;
That with the glory of so goodly sight,
The hearts of man, which fondly here admire Fair Learning's shows, and feed on vain delight, Transported with celestial desire
Of those fair forms, may lift themselves up higher, And learn to love with zealous humble duty, Th' eternal fountain of that heavenly beauty.
Beginning then below with th' easy view
Of this base world, subject to fleshly eye;
From thence to mount aloft, by order due,
To contemplation of the immortal sky;
Of the scare falcon so I learn to fly,
That flags awhile her fluttering wings beneath,
Till she herself for stronger flight can breathe.
Then look who list thy gazeful eyes to feed
With sight of that is fair, look on the frame
Of this wide universe, and therein read
The endless kind of creatures, which by name
Thou canst not count, much less their natures aim; All which are made with wondrous wise respect, And all with admirable beauty decked.
First th' earth, on adamantine pillars founded,
Amid the sea, engirt with brazen bands;
Then th' air, still flitting, but yet firmly bounded
On every side with piles of flaming brands,
Never consumed nor quenched with mortal hands;
And last, that mighty shining crystal wall,
Wherewith He hath encompassed this All.
Look thou no further, but affix thine eye
On that bright shining, round, still moving mass, The house of blessed God, which men call sky,
All sown with glittering stars more thick than grass,
Whereof each other doth in brightness pass :
But those two most which, ruling night and day,
As king and queen the heaven's empire sway.
And tell me then, what hast thou ever seen,
That to their beauty may compared be?
Or can the sight that is more sharp and keen
Endure their Captain's flaming hand to see?
How much less those, much higher in degree,
And so much fairer and much more than these,
As these are fairer than the land and seas!
For far above these heavens, which here we see,
Be others far exceeding these in light,
Not bounded nor corrupt as these same be,
But infinite in largeness and in height,
Unmoving, uncorrupt, and spotless bright;
That need no sun to illuminate their spheres,
But their own native light, far passing theirs.
And as these heavens still by degrees arise,
Until they come to their first Mover's bound,
That in his mighty compass doth comprise
And carry all the rest with Him around,
So those likewise do by degrees redound,
And rise more fair, till they at last arrive
To the most fair whereto they all do strive.
Fair is the heaven where happy souls have place,
In full enjoyment of felicity,
Whence they do still behold the glorious face
Of the divine eternal Majesty.
More fair is that where those Ideas on high
Enranged be, which Plato so admired,
And pure Intelligences from God inspired.
Yet fairer is that heaven, in which do reign
The sovereign powers and mighty potentates,
Which in their high protections do contain
All mortal princes and imperial states.
And fairer yet, whereas the royal seats
And heavenly dominations are set,
From whom all earthly governance is fet 12.
Yet far more fair be those bright cherubims,
Which all with golden wings are overdight 13,
And those eternal burning seraphims,
Which from their faces dart out fiery light;
Yet fairer than they both, and much more bright,
Be th' angels and archangels which attend
On God's own person, without rest or end.
Cease then, my tongue, and lend unto my mind
Leave to bethink how great that beauty is,
Whose utmost parts so beautiful I find;
How much more those essential parts of his,
His truth, his love, his wisdom, and his bliss,
His grace, his doom, his mercy, and his might,
By which He lends us of Himself a sight.
Those unto all He daily doth display,
And shew Himself in th' image of his grace,
As in a looking-glass, through which He may
Be seen of all his creatures vile and base,
That are unable else to see his face
His glorious face, which glistereth else so bright,
That th' angels' selves cannot endure his sight.
But we, frail wights! whose sight cannot sustain
The sun's bright beams when he doth on us shine,
But that their points, rebutted back again,
Are dulled, how can we see with feeble eyne,
The glory of that Majesty divine,
In sight of whom both sun and moon are dark,
Compared to his least resplendent spark?
The means, therefore, which unto us is lent
Him to behold, is on his works to look,
Which He hath made in beauty excellent;
And in the same, as in a brazen book,
To read enregistered in every nook
His goodness, which his beauty doth declare;
For all that good is beautiful and fair.
Thence gathering plumes of perfect speculation,
To impe 14 the wings of thy high-flying mind,
Mount up aloft through heavenly contemplation,
From this dark world, whose damps the soul do blind
And like the native brood of eagles' kind,
On that bright sun of glory fix thine eyes,
Cleared from gross mists of frail infirmities.
Humbled with fear and awful reverence,
Before the footstool of His majesty
Throw thyself down, with trembling innocence,
Nor dare look up with corruptible eye
On the dread face of that great Deity,
For fear lest if He chaunce to look on thee,
Thou turn to nought and quite confounded be.
But lowly fall before his mercy-seat,
Close covered with the Lamb's integrity,
From the just wrath of his avengeful threat,
That sits upon the righteous throne on high;
His throne is built upon eternity,
More firm and durable than steel or brass,
Or the hard diamond, which them both doth pass.
14 To furnish with new feathers,
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