Hast thou thus trafficked, but with far more gain
Of noble goods, and with less time and pain?
Thou art the same materials as before,

Only the stamp is changed, but no more.
And as new-crowned kings alter the face,
But not the money's substance, so hath grace
Changed only God's old image by creation,
To Christ's new stamp, at this thy coronation;
Or as we paint angels with wings, because
They bear God's message, and proclaim his laws,
Since thou must do the like, and so must move,
Art thou new-feathered with celestial love?
Dear, tell me where thy purchase lies, and show
What thy advantage is above, below;

But if thy gainings do surmount expression,
Why doth the foolish world scorn that profession
Whose joys pass speech? Why do they think

unfit

That gentry should join families with it?

As if their day were only to be spent

In dressing, mistressing, and compliment.

Alas, poor joys, but poorer men, whose trust
Seems richly placed in sublimed dust!

(For such are clothes and beauty, which, though

gay,

Are, at the best, but of sublimed clay.)

Let then the world thy calling disrespect,
But go thou on, and pity their neglect.
What function is so noble as to be
Ambassador to God and destiny?

To open life? to give kingdoms to more
Than kings give dignities? to keep heaven's
door?

Mary's prerogative was to bear Christ, so
'Tis preacher's to convey him; for they do,
As angels out of clouds, from pulpits speak,
And bless the poor beneath, the lame, the weak.
If then the astronomers, whereas they spy
A new-found star, their optics magnify,

How brave are those, who with their engine can Bring man to heaven, and heaven again to man?

These are thy titles and preeminences,

In whom must meet God's graces, men's offences; And so the heavens, which beget all things here, And the earth, our mother, which these things doth bear,

Both these in thee are in thy calling knit,

And make thee now a blest hermaphrodite.

A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY.

In what torn ship soever I embark,

That ship shall be my emblem of thy Ark;
What sea soever swallow me, that flood
Shall be to me an emblem of thy blood.
Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise
Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes,
Which, though they turn away sometimes,
They never will despise.

I sacrifice this island unto thee,

And all whom I love here, and who love me;
When I have put this flood * 'twixt them and me,
Put thou thy blood † betwixt my sins and thee.

As the tree's sap doth seek the root below
In winter, in winter now I

my

go

Where none but thee, the eternal root

Of true love, I may know.

Nor thou, nor thy religion, dost control

The amorousness of a harmonious soul;

But thou would'st have that love thyself: as

thou

Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now.

DIVINE POEMS.

Thou lov'st not, till from loving more thou free
My soul whoever gives, takes liberty:
Oh, if thou car'st not whom I love,
Alas, thou lov'st not me.

Seal then this bill of my divorce to all On whom those fainter beams of love did fall; Marry those loves, which in youth scattered be On face, wit, hopes (false mistresses) to thee. Churches are best for prayer that have least light; To see God only, I go out of sight: And to 'scape stormy days, I choose An everlasting night.

ON THE SACRAMENT.

He was the Word, that spake it;
He took the bread and brake it;
And what that Word did make it;
I do believe and take it.