Pietatis lachrymæ. = Teares of deuotion

Pietatis Lachrymae . TEARES of deuotion .

Temporis praeteriti fructus est compunctio , futuri flos est deuotio .

— Bernard .

LONDON , Printed by Edward Allde , and are to be sold at the long shop vnder S. Mildreds Church in the Poultrey . 1602.

To the Right worshipfull , learned and vertuous , Sir Thomas Kitson Knight : earthes good heere , and Heauens blisse heereafter . THere was a world ( but now that world is not , ) When Vertue was within mens hearts inroulde : But now that world is almost cleane forgot , For vildest things doe mens affections holde . There was a time ( but now , more griefe , t is not ) When men ( though mortall ) seemed halfe deuine : There was a golden age , that age forgot , When men ( in charity ) not wealth did shine . There was a time when men relieu'd the poore , But he 's now counted wise that keepes his owne : There was a time , when men did heauen implore , But now who thinkes of heau'n is scarcely knowne . There was a tim● when most men liu'd in God , And mens perfections all on high were placed : But now in Mammon most men haue aboad , Earth is prefer'd fore heau'n , and Saints disgraced . But in that soule who heauen doth onely minde , Deuinest wisdome will for euer dwell : Jf such a soule in thee she cannot finde , Where such a soule to finde J cannot tell . For nothing can thy soule from comfort seuer , In him that bought thee deare , and lou'd thee euer . Your Worships euer most humbly deuoted William Euans .

To the Right worshipfull and no lesse vertuous Lady , the Lady Elizabeth Kitson , wife to Sir Thomas Kitson Knight : Earthes prosperity , and Caelestiall happines . EXpound Tabithai , and t is Dorcas name , And Dorcas is a Roe-bucke sharpe of eye : In this respect Tabithai wonne her fame , That from the earth her soule did pierce the skie . By faithes pure worke true graces quallity , Her mortall life wonne immortality . Is there none like Tabithai ? God forbid , Yes some there are , but of those some too fewe : Many make shew , but doe not as she did , But giue me leaue to giue your deeds their due . Many haue faith , no workes , their faith is vaine : Your workes approoue Tabithai liues againe . From the admirer of your vertues . William Euans .

In Authorem . INspired soules breath but the thoughts of blisse , Whose humble hearts in heauen are onely placed and while the worldlings run their course amisse , In Graces eyes , are gratious spirits graced . So may I say of that which heere I see , Drawne from the fountaine of a heauenly spring : Where those best humours alwaies nourisht be , That make the soule of heau'nly comforts sing . Continue therefore this good course of thine , And God will blesse , and his blessed loue thee : And such as know what comforts are deuine , Will smile at them , that blindely wil reprooue thee . And for my selfe , I finde thy labours such , I cannot loue nor praise thy worke too much . Nich. Breton Gent.

In eundem . WIth some fantasticke foolish braine or other , ( Causles ) thy weeping lines may be disgraced While wisdomes wit their folly doth discouer , And thou thereby in better thoughts be placed . Thy lynes ( no Panimne toyes ) thy Text deuine , Exhales such darkning clouds that Sun may shine . Goe on to weepe , and weeping laugh at those , That doe the pangs of thy sicke soule despise : While thou dost weeping win , they laughing lose , The crowne that is ordain'd for thy sad eyes . While I goe sit me downe , and musing wonder , To see thy heart for sinne nigh torne asunder . Sweet is the Musicke that thy passion sings , A high-fetcht note surpassing Ela's straine : Suckt from the waters of those Hesbon springs , That rise and flow , to neuer ebbe againe . Who wold not ( taught by thee ) do his endeuour ? Learne so to weepe , that he may liue for euer . Phil. Holland Gent.

An Introduction : A Way vaine youth that studies nought but praise The soules Inchauntrix , and the woe to man : When sharpest theame in weeping Oadases , Is all too little wretch doe what thou can . For to manure the odour of thy sinne , That thou from mercies seate , mayst mercy win . Deuote thy wits to loue and venery , Base subiect , fit to adde sinne vnto sinne : Be-witch mens soules with beauties fopperie , By Venus forged-Goddesse praise to winne . Onely let me for my sinnes feate a rod , Learne how to liue , and not offend my God . Illuminating God , faire milke-white Doue , The soules best teacher , Tutor vnto blisse : AffliCtions comfort , Ghost of eternall loue , Cleane Guest , that loues to Inne , where no sinne is . License my soule to weepe with those true eyes , That heauens implore , and all the world despise .

A passion of an afflicted soule . NO sooner had the Sunne all shewed his face , Measuring the welkin , by a furlongs space : But that I sat free from his scorching beame , Vnder an Oake fast by a siluer streame . Not long I sat , but soone I heard one crye , Distilling shewers of teares from his sad eye . And with those teares that did from him proceede , Came sighes ( true partners in each woe & need ) And with those sighs , came words , to heare , a wonder , which thought-torne-hart had almost broke asunder , Neerer I stept , but yet I stood aside , to see the end , and what might him betide . When soone me thought I might this man behold , Placing his armes a crosse , with an infolde : Casting his lookes to heau'n , sometimes to earth , When offring speech , feare stopt his vitall breath . Yet truce he tooke with feare , heart-grieued man , and with a mournefull voice , these words began . Peter denyed his Christ for feare of daunger , And swore ( being askt ) he was to him a stranger : O false forsworne , vilde-wretch that knew him wel , Who lou'd him more then any tongue can tell . Yet he his fault no sooner gan to see , But he repented and from sinne was free . Saule did torment the seruants of the high , Clad all in armes to worke their Tragedy : And martyr'd Steuen , that high sweet Sa. in heau'n Was by his meanes of his deare life be-reauen . Of this great sin , he likewise was forgiuen , Whome , we Canonize Saint , as blessed Steuen . Dauid did heap one sinne vpon another , That so the first , the last might better smother : Murder , blacke murder , and adultery , The least brings man to hels foule misery . He also was of this vilde fault forgiuen , And now with God , enioyes a place in heauen . These all did sinne , but yet were free'd from feare , But my sinne 's greater then I well can beare : Christ came a Sauiour that we all might liue , Yet my sinnes such , as would he would forgiue . Yea sinne doth cause me to be so forlorne , As makes me wish I neuer had bin born . O grieued soule why dost thou sighing crie ? Why spring such flouds from thy immortall eye ? Art thou surcharg'd with sinne ? plunged in woe ? Thy teares say yea , though silence tell me no. Oh ( out alas ) that I might once be free , Where thou ( O God ) might haue no power to see . If I climbe vp to heauen , ( oh ) thou art there , And at thy right hand sits my Sauiour deere : Whose saluing wounds , my soule so much neglected That force , perforce , I needs must be reiected . And by those dooming words thou breath'st in ire , Be headlong cast into eternall fire . Heau'n gates are shut sweet mercy there in none , Then to blacke foggie hell i le get me gone : That kingdome 's priuiledg'd , perhaps and free From sight of him , who all things else doth see . Oh! but my fearefull conscience willes me know , As God rules heau'n aboue , so hell below , And sayes , those gates stand ope to let soules in , Fit place of torture for their grieuous sinne : And as the heauens , so doth he hell retaine , Death dooming-torture neuer-dying paine . Why then be gone poore soule , poast hence away , For heere thou maist not , nay thou dar'st not stay . Oh! that I had Auroraes wings to flye Beyond those Seas , where farther parts doe lye ; Or to some country which no eye hath seene , Where neuer creature hath bin bred or beene , But t is in vaine , for thy farre-reaching hand , Can quickly pull me , from that vnknowne land . Be dimme oh brighest Sunne , toarch-man to day , Let thy moyst oyle decrease , thy light decay : Faire Luna let not thy bright beames be spide , For peraduenture , darknes may me hide . Oh ( saies my conscience ) trust not to blacke night , For with thy God darknes is as the light . Wel I could wish that some huge high-topt mountaine , Or els some vast-known bottomles deep fountaine Would take my life from his all-seeing eye , Whose onely name , makes me dispayring dye . But all in vaine , for if I there woud be , No rockes nor flouds , can hide my sin from thee . Where ere I would be , thou O God art there , And though not seene , yet I thy voyce doe heart : That voice that to my sinfull Grandsire came , Inforceth me to say , Lord heere I am . Heer 's Adams sinfull Of-spring knowne by name , First man created , and the first of shame . Heere is a sinfull wretch , a Demie Deuill , Proane vnto nothing , but to that is euill : Vnthrifty in goodnes , Marchant in vile sinne ; Exchanging better wares , more worse to win . Earths excrement , ( alas ) of all men hatefull ; vnkinde vnto my selfe , to God vngratefull . From these ill wishes I must needs refraine , Since all my wishes are both fond and vaine : Or what I wish for , if I could obtaine , Those things I wish for , would soone prooue my paine ▪ What ere I wish for , or doe most desire , The things I wish prooue ministers of yre . The things obscurest thou O Lord canst see , No place from thy world-seeing-eye is free : The secretst parts that in my body lye , They all lye ope to thy all-seeing eye . Thou likwise brought me from my mothers wombe , And thou shalt Iudge me at thy fearefull doombe . The Prince of darknes doth likewise accord , Bids me dispaire in my death-dying Lord ; Caytiffe saith he , looke not to heau'n for grace , Since heau'n and earth see thy sin-couered face . Earth looks at heau'n , heau'n at the earth doth wonder That earth vp-holding sin , rents not a sunder . Tels me that wealth , was my hearts chiefest treasure ; Sayes that in pride , I tooke my sweetest pleasure ; Enuy and malice , doing neighbour wrong , All these I doe confesse , I lou'd too long : Murder blacke murder , and fowle leachery , Were coupled Actors in this tragedy . He further saies , that God shall prooue vntrue , If he forgiue to whome reuenge is due : That God's not God , except he doe prooue iust , That he reuenge for sinne needs render must . T is true , t is true , ô whether shall I run ? Would God my life were now but new begun . Now wold I sowe , when Autumne yeelds ripe corne Now well nigh dead , now doe I wish new borne : Long haue I liu'd , out-liuing manie men , passing the age of foure-score yeeres and ten . And now the Deuill for to adde more paine , Saies my huge sin calles but for grace in vaine . D●ue● , let not the sluces of thine eyes , Make thy teares passage vnto Paradise : Intreate not Abram send vs Lazarus , No , for if that heau'nling come among vs , Hee 'le but delate of that I feare to know , Hell , Death , Destruction , Deuils , Torture , Woe . Thus might I see this poor wretch plung'd in woe , Almost receiuing foule sinnes ouerthrow : And now his Sea of teares moist drops past number Lull him ( sad pensiue ) in a heauie slumber . Not long he slept , but griefe owle-scriching cries , Beate pathes for passage through his ceaseles eyes . Now combates his good Genus with the Deuill , Mauger the bad , the good expels the euill : Sathan did tempt him much , & sore did shake him , Yet the good spirit would not so forsake him . Though flesh be fraile now he defyeth sinne , And with fresh teares doth thus his passion gin . O Ship-wrackt soule , drencht in a Sea of teares . Laden with Euils and full fraught with feares , Let bitter flouds fall from thy restles eies , Make heauens to pitty thy hearts wofull cries . Neuer , ô neuer cease heau'n to implore , Till peace of conscience heau'ns to thee restore . Swim O my soule , breake through the flouds of sin , See if with P●eter thou the Shore canst win : And at thy landing rest , thou shalt imbrace A golden wreath the Lambe , the Childe of grace : And heauenly Quiers for to welcome thee , Shall sound the musicke of heauens melody . Thinke no worke great enough this blisse to gaine ; Great is the ioy that comes of this thy paine : Trouble like wings must hurle thee vp and downe , Before thou mayst receiue th' Imperiall crowne . " Thou vnto dayes & weekes , to months & yeares , " Must owe the hourely rent of stintlesse teares . Apprentice-like binde thou thy yeares to care , The heart thy shop , Gods sacred word thy ware ; Goo● tho●ghts thy Chapmen , and good works thy gaine Thy che● the poor , & thy reioycing , paine . " Daies passe in plaints , thy nights without repose ; " Awake to weepe and sleep in wakinge woes . Let Wisdome be thy head , Compunction Mother ; Thy friends the Angels , & the Lambe thy Brother . Take for thy soules sweet Spouse deaths memory , Thy kinsfolkes sighes , thy children Lachrymae . This right-hand path leades not thy soule amisse , But eftsoone brings thee to the bower of blisse . Consider further , ô my soule ( quoth he ) Sinners beside my selfe there many be ; Many haue stain'd the honour of their place , And yet in heau'ns bright eye not lost their grace . And though I sin , in liues booke I am noted , Since now to my deare God , I am deuoted . Moreouer by his death it doth appeare , How great the loue is that my God doth beare To me sinnes Monster and most worthy blame ; The badge of ignomy and Map of shame . Th' abuser of rich Time , a lumpe of ill , Too slowe , in good too bad , too swift in will . What meaning hath his head declin'd but this ? To giue my sinfull soule a gratious kisse . His heart 's all open , for to let me see , A heart that hath such loue , none hath but he . His hands are stretched out for to imbrace me , That he in Angels blisse , may after place me . Yea all his pretious corpes ( alas ) are wounded , That though I sin , sin , death & hell confounded . His bodies life , fell-death doth also seuer , Yet he kils death , that I may liue for euer . Mercy sweet Iesu mercy let me win , Since now I hate my selfe , & loath my sin , This he no sooner said , but I might see A man well seeming Angell-Saint to be ; Of comely hue of golde his pleated hayres , More graue in Wisdoms booke , then aged yeares . His feete insteed or sandals troade the ayre , And windes for wings , did this Caelestiall beare . His first arriuall was with this sad wight , Whose sinfull soule Iustice did so affright : To whome , such balme for medcine he did giue , As dead in sinne , by it are rais'd to liue . O blessed Lord that in each time of neede , Sends comfort from aboue , sicke soules to feede . Doe not dispaire ( quoth he ) thou wofull man , Doubt not , but he that made all , all things can ; Thinke not that he that breath'd into thee breath , Will ought reioyce in thy soules fearefull death . No wretched man thy God willes thee to know , Sinnes red as scarlet , he makes white as snow . Seale this ( O Lord ) cleare my sinne-spotted-Den , Teares beg the warrant , Iesu say Amen . Nemo renascitur in Christi corpore , nisi prius nascatur in peccati corruptione . S. August .

Teares Efficacy , and Sinnes pardon . Or Mary Magdalens Lachrymae . WHen Anna wept the teares ran down amaine , From forth the Flud-gates of her watry eyes ; When Agar wept that water she might gaine , Teares , sobbes , & sighes were onely Sacrifice . When Susan falsly was condemn'd to dye , Her innocent true teares did peirce the skye . They had the things that they with teares required , Oh who can tell the force of such true teares ? Wonder of wonders for to be admired , Since eyes , as keyes doe open mercies eares . Neuer came wretch to God with true contrition , But did obtaine , so it were iust petition . Sad humble teare , shed by a soule diuine , What maist thou not account of as thine owne ? wilt thou a kingdom ? why ? heau'ns kingdom 's thine wilt thou a seate thou hast the Lambes bright throne . Wilt thou be stronge ? let one teare , heau'n be sent And it shall doombe all hell to banishment . Meate for the soule thou art , strength for the sence , Guerdon of Vertue , Assosiate of Grace ; The blotter out of vice and great offence , The Font that Lauers filth from foulest face . The drinke and repast of the penitent , Swift billow , wafting to amendement . Best health of new-returning innocence , The Angell foode of reconsiliation ; Chiefe ioy of an appeased conscience , And the stronge hope of soules election . The Odour of the ioyes of blisse to come , The best companion in the day of doombe . Since teares are of such force , who wold not weep ? And weeping weep for sin , with teares an Ocean : A floud within his heart who would not keep ? To drench the entrance of each sinfull motion . Yes saies my soule , Lord of my soule I will . Mary that most hath need will weep her fill . Close thou thine eyes , ô righteous Jeremye , Let not thy teares lament the faults of other , My sighes , my sobs , my eyes , my Lachrymae , Shall wash my soule , & my soules-sinnes discouer . I , onely I my selfe , my selfe alone , Will wash in teares and my huge sinne bemone . Michah , why weep'st thou , said the men of warre ? Why dost thou vs pursue ? is not all well ? Why hast thou strayed from thy home so farre ? Nay sigh not grieued man but quickelie tell . My God ( quoth he ) whome I with care did keep , Ye 'aue stolne from me , and aske ye why I weep ? Michah with grieued heart doth much lament , The losse of his forg'd-fained-golden God : And shall not flouds of teares of me be spent , For losse of him that was my liues abode ? Shall Michah waile his losse , and shall not I ? Yes , while I liue I le weepe , and weeping dye . The nimble Hart when he 's beset with Hound , Seeing no way te'scape pale greedy death : Before he feele the first life-killing wound , Weeps out a groane , & then yeelds ayre his breath ; And makes the Hunters hart ( though hard as stone ) By reason of his sighes , his death to moane . Shall this milde Hart ( O Mary ) full of euils Sigh foorth the farewell of his liues decay ? And shalt not thou that art beset with Deuils , That rent thy soule as rauenous dogs their pray ? Yes I will weep sigh , sob , and neuer cease , Till heau'n haue mercy , and my sinnes release . If holy Dauid did so much lament , Th' vntimely death of his rebellious Sonne : If he vpon the dead corpes these words spent , O losse ! ô Absalon ! ô Absalon ! Then needly must I weeping say each houre , O losse ! no losse to my soules Sauiour . As was the sound of Aarons siluer bell , Whose sweet alarum caus'd each man to heare : So Mary let thy griefes sin-weeping knell , Rung by the vertue of an harty teare , Sound such a lowd , and dolefull pleasing ditty , That it may mooue thy God , thy woes to pitty . Few drops ( men say ) force hard stones asunder . Not by compulsion but by often fall : See! stubborne stones to moyst drops yeeld ; ô wonder ! And shall not God , when teares for mercy call ? Sinnes teares ; almost ( mee thinkes the very name , Should be sufficient for to blot my shame . O therefore hye thee wretched Magdalen , To him that sinne hath power to forgiue : Intreate him clense thy foule defyled den , Desire to dye to sinne , in him to liue . Let not thy God , from Simons boord be risen , Till thou vnto thy God be trulie shriuen . As an inraged colde tane in thy brest , If it continue , prooues but little good : So will thy sinne disturber of thy rest , If thou to greater sinne dost let sinne bud . O therefore take thy time , while time thou may , For who can tell , how swift time glides away . Nor be not thou asham'd before them all , Of thy vilde sinne to make confession : But bend thy knee , and bid thy salt teares call , Of thy great sinne to haue remission . Deferre no time , no weeke , no day , no houre , But pleade with teare , best pleading Oratour . Confesse ( I say ) with a true broken heart ( For who can tell the force of such confession ? ) Thy sinne , and by thy sinne , thy iust desert , And for the same thy soules contrition . With such confession learne for to accord , For such regaines thy now lost liuing Lord . It ioyes the Saints , make cleare the conscience , Cancels the bond of sinne , it 's hope of pardon : It 's Brideler of feare , best pleasing incense , Heau'n opening key , sweet satisfaction . Best motiue moouing thy dull soule to rise , From wretched earth , to blessed Paradise . Iesu I thirst , but not for Dauids draught , Not of the Cisterne of Philistines spring : T is not that water though so dearely bought , That any comfort to my heart can bring . That which the Angels loue , and Saints require , That holy water doth my soule desire . Open thy gate kinde hearted Pharise , Oh giue me way , and leaue to enter in : That I may prostrate , humbly on my knee , Shew to my God the greatnes of my sinne On stage of blacke , the Actor be my heart , My soule the Chorus , and my sinne the part . O but ( saith one ) art not thou Magdalen , Notorious for thy sinne in this our Citty ? Yes sure I am ; will ye not therefore open ? May not a sinners teares mooue ye to pitty ? Whose that saith Christ ? Mary shews her repentance : O let her in ; thus mercy giues me entrance . Woman come foorth saith he , stand not behinde , May I a wretch ( O Lord ) obtaine such fauour ? Mercy to penitents is alway kinde , O kinde Phisition ! say on my Sauiour . For neuer shall these teares of me be spent , Till thou bid rise , sinne pardon'd penitent . Pardon thou hast , be free from Sathans den , Arise , and sinne no more : good God Amen .

The soules comfort in Middest of affliction . Or the penitent theefes passion . TO whom shal death , th' Almighties Trumpeter Seeme sowerie sharpe , fell-cruell-bitter paine : When meager death is but as messenger , To tell our soules , that we with God shall raigne . Come gentle death , since t is my Sauiours will , ( O blessed will to dye I am not sorry ) Seaze on an Essence which thou canst not kill , Whilst Angels waft it to the place of glory . He that is framer of the earth and heauen , Telles me that these my now fraile mortall eyes : ( So soone as soule from body is bereauen ) Shall see heauens Pharus blessed-Paradise . This day my soule , mercy infusing grace , ( O triple happie soule , t' obtaine such fauour : ) In Angels blisse shall see him face to face , That did descend from heau'n to be my Sauiour . This day my life shall dye , in blisse to raigne , This day I shall be free'd from euery foe : This day I dye a death to liue againe , This day I cease to weepe , and laugh at woe . This day 's the 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 of an eternall raigne , And the 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 of my now dying paine . Since it is so , sweet death come let me dye , Whilst mercy shuts the windows of mine eye .

Deus mihi totum in toto . LEt wicked worldlings fall away from God , No earthlie crosse shall cause my soule to feare Afflictions staffe , and persecutions rod , True patience willes me , and I well can beare . Who would not suffer heere a little paine , And dye , to liue , that he with God may raigne ? If I of friends and countrie be neglected , Yet ere I loose my faith , I le beg my bread : He that from youth hath alway me protected , From his foode-giuing hand shall I be fed . He keeps the fragments of a feast in store , Where mercy willes me knock at bounties doore . If poorest roofe disdaine to couer me , Ny building 's not on earth but all on hye : Meane while the Dens and Rock , shal succour me , And stubborne earth shall welcome miserie . Better it is , mong Wolues to haue aboad , Then liue in house and not to liue in God . If I with prisons chaine fast fettred be , My persecutions chaine shall prooue a crowne : If all the world oppose it selfe at me , And death ( the worst to feare ) begin to frowne . Yet he that for my life , his life did giue , Will k●●● my death , that I with him may liue . What though no 〈◊〉 see me buried , T is not a toombe that I desire to haue : What bootes that earth , to earth be carried , My blisse is not contained in a graue . And for an vnction to this bitter gall , Heau'n couers him that hath no buriall . Heare me sweet Iesu , heare mee when I call , Since thou to my poore soule art all in all .

Mors Christi , mihi vita . TH' Eternall Father , guider of the heauen , To his all-glorious and immortall Hoast : No other licence to them hath he giuen , But that their garlands , and their crownes of cost ( While heau'nly quiers doe sing , as it is meete ) Be laid at his great Sonnes immortall feete . Yet see the malice and the crueltie , Of these hard-hearted and inhumaine men : With purple cloth ( aye me ) in mockerie , They cloath the flesh of this great God ; and then To him they bend the knee ( their sinne the more ) Whom Angels worship , & the Saints adore . See , see , from his deepe wounds out issues bloud , Dying the purple Dye , more perfect red ; Woe 's me that for my sin should spring that floud , Great was his loue that so my comfort bred . Dye ( oh my God ) make purple my hard heart . So shall it cloath thy wounds , my sinne , thy 〈◊〉 . Ego sum tus causa 〈◊〉 .

Diues in his passion . RIch men laugh at me your fill , Since to laugh it is your will : Make a iest of me and hell , Till ye buy that I would sell. Christ did tell ye but in vaine , Of my torture and my paine : I , as ye , at hell did smile , Sathan so did me beguile . Were I now to liue againe , Life should be a liuing paine : Ye should laugh , but I would weepe , I would wake , when ye should sleepe . Ye should not relieue the poore , I would so bestowe my store : You , not I , should hunt for hell , I , not ye , with God would dwell , But ô my soule plung'd in paine , Doe not Eccho thus in vaine : Worldlings laugh to heare thee moane , Harder hearts , then hardest stone . For the raine makes flintes to mourne , When that Athiests , teares doe scorne : But those scorners all shall dye , And hell laugh when they shall crye .

Lazarus in his happines . POore men if yee beggers be , Learne to beare your Crosse of me : Crosses are the way to blisse , Where true patience leader is . Patience poore mens treasure chiefe , That doth giue the soule reliefe : Such reliefe as rich men want , That the beggers almes is scant . Ioy in heart , ye poorest soules , Whom the hand of heau'n inrowles : In the care of worldlings crosse , While the rich dye with their drosse . Grieue not that the dogs doe licke yee , Hellish stings shall neuer pricke yee : Let them sing while ye doe crye , Ye shall liue when they shall dye . Ye shall liue in endles ioyes , They liue dying in annoyes : They in soule tormented sore , Ye reioycing euermore . Doe but then the difference see , That twixt rich and poore may be : They with Diues lye in hell , Ye , with me , in heauen shall dwell .

A passion of the soules desire . OH had I wings to flye vnto that place , Where Hierarches & Angels praise my God : That I might taste of that eternall grace , That frees the faithfull from afflictions rod . Then should I heare the Cherubins , that sing To God , all holie holie Sanctities : Then I my selfe vnto my God and King , Should humbly tune their heau'nlie vnities . Then should I be a free man of that Cittie , The gates whereof are pearle , the barres of golde ; The Lamps no starres , but glories Maiestie , And Saints the soules that there their freedom hold . Then should I see the Prophets in their blisse , And the Apostles seated on bright thrones : Then should I see that world where no woe is , While Angels hands do crowne the Martirs grones Then should I see the Virgins freed from teares , Crown'd in the heauens for holy Chastitie : Blest should I see those babes whose tender yeares , Aboad the stinge of sharpest crueltie . Then should I see , that now I cannot see . Through the darke hindrance of my deadlie sinne : Yet mercie saies , his wounds makes sinners free , His bloud the key that lets them enter in . O then my God make this world hell to me , That I in heau'n may see all this with thee .

Christes Crowne is sharpe . THe cruel thornes with which our Lord was crowned Were sorely sharpe that shed his sacred blood : A gratious loue , in glorious life renowned , To hurt it selfe to doe his seruants good . But while those points did pricke his sacred head , Sinne , death , and Sathan , all were deadly wounded : O blessed Christ that so my comforts bred , As by thy death , both death and hell confounded ! Blest were the drops of so deuine a nature , As shed by sinners were the death of sin : And blessed Christ that so didst blesse thy creature , As by thy death didst his best life begin . Yet let me weepe to see his head so bleeding , That is my heart and spirits onely feeding .

Doloris finis gaudium . MY heauy soule haue patience with thy selfe , The tydes wil turne the ebbe may haule a flow A Ship sometime may run vpon the shelfe , And yet be saued from her ouer-throw . Say that thy griefes doe gripe thee euery houre , While that thy life is neere the point to dye : And weakned nature hardly hath the power , To beare the burthen of thy miserie . Yet , doe thou know , thy sinfull soule deserueth , Farre greater death , if Iustice doe thee right : And know withall that mercie still preserueth , A Sunney blessing for the faithfull sight . Where thou shalt finde that all the worlds annoy ▪ Is farre vnworthy of the smallest ioy .

Benedictus deus in eternum . SOme wicked spirit thought my heart accurst , Because it saw , how I was woe begon me ; Sorrow , and death and hell , did seeke their worst , With all their forces , all to fall vpon me . Sorrow , did locke my heart with many a sob , And brought my life vnto the doore of death : And when death saw how my poore hart did throb He shew'd the horrour of the hell beneath . But , when my God did in his mercie see , My soule besiedged thus on euery side : With one faire looke he made their forces flye , Nor death , nor hell , nor sorrow durst abide . But left my soule in such a blessed case , By mercies liuing loue to be relieued : That I must sing in glory of his grace , That helpt my soule when it was so agreeued .

The sinful soules sob . SOrrow and Sinne , to my heart are no wonder , Since sinne and sorrow rent my heart asunder : My soule in sinne , hath long time had aboad , While sorrow wept that I offended God . My Sinne ( I must confesse ) is much more great , Then is the sorrow of my grieued heart : Yet sorrow willes me humbly to intreate For mercie , to asswage my wofull smart . Therefore to thee , that canst throw downe to hell , And after fetch into the Heau'n of blisse : To thee in whome sweet mercy still doth dwell , In whom all comfort was , shall be , and is : To thee a wretched soule nigh drown'd in sinne , With sorrow weepes , that he may mercy win .

Laqueus contritus est . SInne and dispaire , both at a banquet met , And in their feasting that they might haue ioy : My yeelding soule in hast from me they fet , And made it drunke , and drown'd it in annoy . But tasting of sinnes cheare ▪ I wot full well , Dispaire , that neuer wisht the soule but harme : Had well nigh brought my life to that same hell , Where sins more thick than Bees in summer swarme . Which when I did perceiue all woe begon me , With bleeding heart I looked vp on high : And God in mercy so did looke vpon me , And to my griefe such medicine did apply : That b●ing heal'd of my dispayring sinne , I might by faith his gratious fauour winne .

Par nulla figura dolori . IF I were set to seeke out sorrows muses , And all at once , were come to waite vpon me : With all the griefe that greatest sorrow vses , To shew the world how I am woe begon me . If all the world had brought their woes together , And all set downe , in their extreamest kinde , And all the kinds had brought their crosses hether , To shew the death of a tormented minde . If all the figures that the Poets faine , Should in their nature truely be expressed : And euery sorrow in a sun drie vaine , Could shew the horror of a heart distressed . If these and more then euer yet were knowne , To crucifie a poore vnhappie creature : In pleasures spirit wholy ouerthrowne . Could shew the pride of sorrow in her nature . I thinke they all would fall out short in fine , To sound but where the depth of my distresse , And leaue this heart , and wofull soule of mine , Vnto the comfort of the comfortlesse . But since I see God onely knowes my griefe , Which is too great for any man to gesse : And in his mercie liues my soules reliefe , And he alone can giue my heart redresse . I will beseech his Maiestie deuine , In mercies height the hope of happines : For to receiue this humble soule of mine , And bring my heart out of this heauines .

Non est Deus sicut noster . AT Christes Ascention heau'ns-vast wombe did wonder , whilst Angels harts did bleed & cleaue a sunder ; Immortal passions so did wound and paine them , That all amort they sit and thus complaine them . O thou bright morning star thou glories glory , Make vs partakers of a wofull story . By thee we know , sin , death , & hell confounded , But cannot shew how wisdom came thus wounded ; Then gan the spirit of that be-slaughtered lambe , To tell how by those wounds his goodnes came . Amid the Center of an earthly Cell , Accompanied with friends I long did dwell : At length they wound , & bring me to my end , And he that most did hurt was most my friend . Life of all liues they kil'd and put to paine , My harme , their good , sowre , sweet , my losse their gaine . O fountaine of all mercy , mercies wonder , What heart can heare this and not burst asunder ? T was I ( woe's me therefore ) that caus'd thine end , Whom thou in mercie dost accompt a friend . Within the closure of some obscure Cell , My soule be-murdering-Lord till death shal dwel ; There shall it weeping sit , and read this story , Till heau'n assume it for to see thy glorie .

A passion . LEt me goe seeke some for-lorne place , Where nothing liues but sorrows loue : Where I may sit and waile my case , Vnto the blessed heau'ns aboue . For to the world to tell my woes , It were a breath but spent in vaine : A labour that my soule might lose , Or with a sigh returne againe . For all the thoughts of pitties eye , On earth are buried long agoe : And all the waies of miserie , Are to dispaire , or dye in woe . For vertue she that heauenlie Queene , That onelie keeps the soule a crowne : Whose faith hath in her fauours been , Though heere by fortune beaten downe , Euen she is forc'd to keepe her seate , Among the Angels blessed armes : Because she sees the world intreate , Her seruants with such wicked harmes . And since I doe so plainlie see , That in the world there is no place For vetue , pitty , not for me , Nor any in my heauie case . Let me goe seeke some sorrie Caue , With sorrowes loue to sit alone : And like a Ghoast within the graue , Vnto the heau'ns to make my mone . For in the heau'ns I know he is , Who hath subdu'd the power of hell : And in that heauenly hand of his , Doth my assured comfort dwell , Where Vertue , Mercy , Loue and I , Shall liue together in such ioy : As though vnto the world I dye , My soule shall thinke of no annoy .

His farewell to the world . VAine world adew , since vaine is thy best pleasure , Thy selfe a toy : In better things then thine consistes my treasure , In heau'n's my ioy . A ioy that doth detest Such pleasing goods , As sorrow brings the heart in flowing floods . Thy baites are sweet at first , yet sower in end , From heau'n they part ; A Bee which hath a sting that doth offend , And wound the heart . A Friend that sees a life all woe begon it , And wisheth ten times more to fall vpon it . Thy best things are in fine a world of woe , A sincke of ill : A garden where bad weedes are set to grow , The soule to kill . Thy Paradice a dungeon , layle , or hell , Where light in darke for euermore doth dwell . Thy glorie hath no Sun-shine , but a mist To blinde the eye : And therefore let them loue thee they that list , So will not I. I seeke a glorie that is all aboue , Sweet Iesu I seeke thee my truest loue . When most thou smilest then thou most dost frowne , And seek'st to kill : Thou dost aduance to honour then pull'st downe , Such is thy will . Sing in the sweetest key thou canst deuise : While I with wisdomes wit stop eares and eyes ▪ FINIS .