The passions of the spirit

WHere shall I finde that most morneful muse , That neuer heard of any thing but mone , And reade the passion that hir penne doth vse , When shee and sorrow sadly sits alone , To tell the world more then the world can tell What fits in deed most fitly figure hell ? Let mee not think once of the smallest thought , Nor speake of lesse then of the greatest griefe , Where euery sence with sorrows ouer wrought , Liues but in death despairing of reliefe , While thus the heart with torments torne asonder , May of the world bee cald the wofull wonder . The day lyke nights , all darckned by distresse , Pleasure beecome a subiect full of paine , The spirit ouerprest with heauinesse , While helplesse horror vexeth euery vaine : Death shakes his dart , griefe hath my graue prepared : Yet to more sorrow , is my spirit spared . The Owly eyes that not indure the light , The night rauens song that sounds of nought but death , The Cockatrice that killeth with hir sight , The poysoned ayre that chokes the sweetest breath , Thunder and earthquakes all together met , These tell a little how my life is set . Where words desolu'd to sighes , sighes into teares , And euery teare to torments of the minde , The mindes distresse , into those deadly feares , That finde more death then death it selfe can finde . Death to that life , that lyuing doth descrie , A little more yet of my misery . Put all the woes of all the world together : Sorrow and death , sit downe in all their pride , Let misery bring all hir muses hether , With all the horror that the hart can bide . Then read the state but of my ruthfull story , And say my griefe hath gotten sorrows glory . For natures sicknesse somtime may haue ease , Fortune ( though fickle ) somtime is a friend , The minds affliction pacience may appease , And death is cause that many torments end : But euer sick , crost , greeu'd , and liuing dying , Think on the spirit in this sorrow lying . To shew the nature of my paine ( alas , ) Payne hath no nature to descrie my payne , But where that paine it selfe in paine doth passe . Think on vexation so in euery vaine , That hopelesse , helplesse , endlesse paynes may tell , Saue hell it selfe , but myne there is no hell . If sicknesse bee a grownd of deadly griefe , Consuming cares haue caught mee by the heart : If want of comfort , hopelesse of reliefe , Bee further woe to way my inward smart : If friends vnkindnesse , so my griefe is grounded : If causelesse wronged , so my heart is wounded . If loue refused so read on my ruin , If truth disgraced , so my sorrow moued , If faith abused the ground my torments grue in , If vertue skorned so my death approued , If death delaying , so my heart perplexed , If lyuing dying , so my spirit vexed : My infants yeeres mispent in childish toyes , My riper age in rules of little reason , My better yeeres in all mistaken ioyes , My present time ( Oh most vnhappie season , ) In fruitlesse labours and in ruthlesse loue , O what a horror hath my hart to prooue ! I sigh to see mine infancie mis-spent , I mourne to finde my youthfull life mis-led , I weep to feele my further discontent , I dye to trye , my loue is liuing dead , I sigh , I mourne , I weep , I liuing dye , And yet must liue to shew more miserie . The hunted Hart somtime doth leaue the hound : My hart ( alas ) is neuer out of chase . The lime-hounds lease somtimes is yet vnbound : My hands are hopelesse of so high a grace . Sommer restores what winter doth depriue : But my hart withered neuer can reuiue . I can not figure sorrow in conceit , Sorrow exceedes all figures of hir sence : But on my woe when sorrowes all may wait , To see a note exceed their excellence , Let mee conclude to see how I am wounded , Sorrow hir selfe is in hir selfe confounded . But whereof growes the passion of this paine , That thus perplexeth euery inward part ? Whence is the humor of this hatefull vaine , So damps the spirit , and consumes the hart ? Oh let my soule with bitter teares confesse , It is the ground of all vnhappinesse . If lack of wealth , I am the note of need : If lacke of friends , no faith on earth remaines : If lack of health , see how my heart it bleeds : If lack of pleasure , looke vpon my paines : If lack of wealth , of friends , of health or pleasure , Say then my sorrowes must bee out of measure . Measure ? no measure measure can my thought , But that one thought that is beyond all measure : Which knowing how my sorrowes haue ben wrought , Can bring my heart into hir highest pleasure , Which either must my sorrowes cut of quight , Or neuer let mee think vpon delight . There is a lack that tells mee of a life , There is a losse that tells me of a loue : Beetweene them both a state of such a strife , As makes my spirit such a passion proue : That lack of th one and thothers losse ( Alas ) Makes mee the wofullst wretch that euer was . My dearest loue that dearest bought my loue , My onely life by whom I onely liue . Was euer faith did such affection proue ? Or euer grace did such a glory giue ? But such a lack and such a losse aye mee , Must needes the sorrow of all sorrowes bee . My loue is fayer and fayrer then the sunne , Which hath his light but from his fayrest loue , Oh fayrest loue whose light is neuer done , and fairest light doth such a loue approue . But such loue lost and such a life obscured , Can there a greater sorrow bee indured ? Hee came from high to liue with mee beelow : Hee gaue mee life and shewed mee greatest loue . Vnworthie I , so high a worth to know , Left my chiefe blesse a baser choice to proue . I saw his wonders , yet did I not beeleeue him , And for his goodnesse , with my sinnes did grieue him . I saw him faultlesse , yet I did offend him : I saw him wronged and yet did not excuse him : I saw his foes , yet sought not to defend him : I had his blessings , yet I did abuse him . But was it mine or any others deed ? Whose ere it was it makes my heart to bleed . To see the feete that traueld for our good , To see the hands that brake the liuely bread , To see the head whereon our honour stood , To see the fruit where on our spirits fed : These feet , hands bored , and his head all bleeding , Who doth not dye with such a sorrow reading ? Hee plaest all rest . yet had no resting place : Hee healed each paine , yet liud in sore distresse : Deserud all good , yet driuen to great disgrace : Gaue all hearts ioy , himselfe in heauinesse : Suffered them liue , by whome himselfe was slaine : Lord who can liue ▪ to see such loue againe ? A Virgins childe , by vertuous power conceiued , A harmelesse man , that liu'd for all mens good , A faithfull friend that neuer faith deceiued , A heauenly frute for heart especiall food , A spirit all of excellence diuine , Such is the essence of this loue of myne . Whose Mansion , heauen , yet lay within a manger : Who gaue all food , yet suckt a virgins breast : Who could haue kild , yet fled a threatned danger . who sought our quiet by his owne vnrest : who dyed for them , which highly did offend him , And liues for them which can not comprehend him . Who came no further then his father sent him , Who did fullfill but what he did command him , Who praid for them that proudly did torment him , For telling truth to what they did demand him , Who did all good that humbly did intreat him , And bare their blowes that did vnkindly beat him . A sweet phisition for the body crased , A heauenly medison for the minde diseased , A present comfort for the wits amased , A ioyfull spirit for the soule displeased . The bodie , minde , wit and spirits ioye , What is the world without him but annoy ? Hee knew the sicknesse that our soules infected , And that his blood must onely bee our cure , When so our faith his sacred loue affected , that for our liues hee would a death indure , Hee knew his passion , yet his patience bare it : Oh how my soule doth sorrow to declare it ! Hee heald the sick , gaue sight vnto the blinde , Speach to the dum , and made the lame to goe : Vnto his loue hee neuer was vnkinde , Hee loued his friend and hee forgaue his foe . And last his death for our loue not refused , What soule could liue to see such loue misused ? To note his words what wisdome they containe , To note his wisdome of all worth the wonder , To note his works what glory they doe gaine , To note his worth , world , heauen , and earth , come vnder . To note the glory that his Angells giue him , Fie that the world to such disgrace should driue him . Vnseene hee came , hee might bee seene vnto vs : Vnwelcome seemd , that came for all our wealth Hee came to die , that hee might comfort doe vs , Wee slew the subiect of our spirts health . The subiect ? no , the king of all our glory : Weep heart to death , to tell this dolefull story . A Lyon , where his force should bee affected , And yet a Lamb in mildnesse of his loue : As true as Turtle , to his loue elected . Sure as mount Sion that can neuer moue . So milde a strength , and so fast truth to proue , What soule can liue , and lack so sweet a loue ? Hee preacht , hee praid , hee fasted , and hee wept , The sweet creator for his sinfull creature : The carefull watch full warely hee kept , That brake the neck euen of their foulest nature . And when hee did to happie state restore vs , Shall wee not weepe that hee may not abhor vs ▪ To hate a loue must argue lothsome nature , To wrong a friend must proue too foule a deede , To kill thy selfe will shew a curssed creature , To slay the soule no more damnation neede . Then , spoyle the fruit whereon the spirit feedeth , O what a hell within the soule it breedeth ! Hee thought no ill but only did all good , Hee gaue all right and yet all wrong receiued . The fiends temptation , strongly hee withstood , Yet let himselfe by sinners bee deceiued . And see at last when he was woe-be-gone him , The traytorous world did tyranize vpon him . His faultlesse members nayled on the crosse , His holy head was crowned all with thornes , His garments giuen by lots to gaine our losse , His power derided all with scoffes and skornes , His body wounded and his spirit vexed : To thinke on this , what soule is not perplexed ? Poore Peter wept when hee his name denied , And Mary Magdalen wept for hir offence : His mother wept when shee his death espied , But yet no teares could stand for his defence . But if these wept to see his wofull case : Why die not I to think of his disgrace ? Happie was hee that suffered death so ny him : That at his end repentance might behould him : Twise happie life that did in loue so trie him , As to his faith such fauour did vnsould him , As crauing comfort but in mercies eyes , That selfe same day did liue in Paradise . Would I had beene ordaind to such a death , To die with him , to liue with him for euer , And from the aire , but of this blessed breath , To suck the life , whose loue might faile me neuer , And drinck of that sweet spring that neuer wasteth , And feede of that lifes bread that euer lasteth . Oh would my soule were made a sen of teares , Myne eies might wake , and neuer more be sleeping ▪ My heart may beare the paines all pleasure weares , So I might see him once yet in my weeping . When ioyfull voice this song might neuer cease , My Sauiours sight hath set my soule in peace . Should I esteeme of any worldly toy , That might beehould the height of such a treasure ? Could I bee Iudas to my chiefest ioy , To gaine possession of a gracelesse pleasure ? No : could my soule in comfort once conceiue him , I hope his mercy would not let mee leaue him . Blest was the fish that but the figure swallowed Of my sweet Iesus but in Ionas name : More blessed tombe by that sweet body hallowed , From whence the ground of all our glory came ? Might not my soule bee sooner in a wish , Would I were such a tombe or such a fish . But Ionas left the sea and came to land , And Iesus from the earth to heauen ascended : Why should I then vpon more wishes stand , But cry for mercy where I haue offended ? And say my soule vnworthy is the place , Euer to see my Sauiour in the face . Yet let mee not despaire of my desire , Although euen hell doe answere my desert . Where humble hope , that pittie doth aspire : Proues penitencie , the pacyfiing part . Where mercy sweet , that sees my soules behauiour , May graunt mee grace , to see and serue my Sauiour . Whome till I see , in sorrowes endlesse anguish , All discontent with all that I can see , Resolud in soule in sorrowes lake to languish , where no conceite but discontent may bee , I will sit downe till after this worlds hell , My sauiours sight may onely make mee well .

Canto . 2. BVt shall I so my secret griefe giue ouer , With hope to see the glory of my sight ? Or can my soule hir sacred health recouer , While no desert doth looke vpon delight ? No , no : my hart is too too full of griefe , For euer thinking to receiue reliefe . The Sunne is downe the glory of the day , The springe is past , the sweetnesse of the yeere , The haruest in , whereon my hope did stay , And withering winter giues but chilling cheere , And what such death Can griefe , or sorrow giue , As see his death whereby the soule doth liue ? Mee thinks I see , and seeing sigh to see , How in his passion patience plaies hir part : And in his death what life hee giues to mee , In my loues sorrow to relieue my heart . But what a care doth this conclusion trie , The head must off , or else the body die ? Hee was my head , my hope , my heart , my health , The speciall Iewell of my spirits ioy , The trusty treasure of my highest wealth , The onely pleasure kept mee from annoy : Hee was , and is , and euermore shal bee , In life or death , the life of life to mee . And let mee see how sweetly yet he lookes Euen while the teares are trickling downe his face : And for my lyfe how well his death he brookes , While my desert was cause of his disgrace . And let me wish yet while his death I see , I could haue died for him that died for mee . Had I but seene him as his seruants dyd , At sea , at land , in citie , and in field , Though in him selfe hee had the glory hyd , That in his grace the height of glory hild : Then might my sorrow some-what be appeased , That once my soule had in his sight beene pleased . But not to see him till I see him die , And that my deed was causer of his death , How can I cease to weepe , to houle , and crie , To see the gasping of that glorious breath , That purest loue vnto the soule approued , And is the blessing of the soule beeloued ? Shall I not wash his body with my teares , And saue the blood that issues from his side , That keepes my heart from all infernall feares , Vnto my soule by my firme faith applyed ? Shall I not striue with Ioseph for the course , And make his tombe in my soules true remorse ? Shall I not cursse those hatefull hellish fiends , That led the world to work such wickednesse ? And hate all them that haue not been his friends , But follow on that work of wretchednesse ? Cut off the head that first hands on him layd , And help to hang the dogge that him betrayd . Am I not one of that vnhappie broode , The Pellican doth figure in hir nest , When I must liue but by his onely blood , In whose sweet loue my life doth onely rest ? O wretched bird ! but I more wretched creature , To figure such a bird in such a nature . Dyd God himselfe ordaine it should bee so , To saue my life my Sauiour so should die ? His will bee done : yet let mee weepe for woe , To bee the subiect of his miserie . That though hee came to mend that was amisse , Hee should bee so the author of my blisse . Shall I not driue the watchman from the graue , And watch the rising of the sonne renowmed ? Or goe my selfe aliue into the graue , To kisse the body where it lies intombed ? What shall I doe ? or what shall I approue , For my soules health that so my soule did loue ? Oh. Loue the ground of loue , Oh liuely loue , Why doe I liue that did not die with thee , When in my heart I doe such horror prooue , As lets my care no thought of comfort see , How my poore soule might once such seruice do thee , To giue mee hope how I am come vnto thee ? No : I haue runne The way of wickednesse , Forgetting that my faith should follow most : I did not think vpon thy holinesse , Nor by my sinne what sweetnesse I haue lost , Oh sinne ! so sinne hath compast mee about , That ( Lord ) I know not where to finde thee out . If in the heauen , it is too high a place , For wicked heart to hope to clime so high : If in the world , the earth is all to base To entertaine thy glorious maiestie : If in the world , vnworthy I to read So sweet a sence to stand my soule in stead : If in my heart , sinne saith thou art not there : If in my soule , it is too foule infected : If in my hope , it is too full of feare , And fearefull loue hath neuer faith elected . In soule , nor body , hope , nor seare , ( aye mee ) Where should I seeke where my soules loue may bee ? Alas the day that euer I was borne , To see how sinne hath bard mee from my blisse , And that my soule is so in torments torne , To know my loue and come not where hee is . Yet , if that euer heauens heard creatures cry , Lord , looke a little on my misery . Let mercy plead in true repentance cause , Where humble prayer , may heauenly pittie moue : That though my life haue broken sacred lawes , My hearts contrition yet may comfort proue : That till my soule may my sweet Sauiour see , Mercie may cast one loueing looke on mee . And while I sit with Mary at the graue , As full of griefe as euer loue may liue , My wounded hart some spark of hope may haue , Of such reliefe as glorious hand may giue : To make mee seele though sin hath death deserued , In mercies loue is my soules life preserued . Which sacred truth vntill my soule doth tast , To slake the sorrow of this heart of myne , My weary life in wofull thoughts must wast , While soule and bodie humbly I resine , Vnto those glorious holy hands of his , Who is the hope of my eternall blisse .

Canto . 3. BVt can I leaue to thincke vpon the thing , That I can neuer put out of my thought ? Or can I cease of his sweet loue to sing , Who by his blood his creatures comfort brought ? Or can I liue to thinck that he should die , In whome the hope of all my life doth lie ? No ▪ Let mee thinck vpon his life and death , And after death , his euer life againe . Hee breath'd our life , and giueing vp his breath , Reuiude our soules , that in our sinnes were slaine . His life so good , as neuer death deserued , And by his death , our euer liues preserued . Did hee not wash his poore Apostles feet ? Came hee not riding on a silly Asse ? Did hee not heale the criples in the streete , And fed a world where little victuall was ? Did not his loue most true affection trye , To die for vs that wee might neuer die ? Was neuer infant shew'd such humblenesse : Was neuer man did speake as this man did : Was neuer louer shew'd such faithfulnesse : Was neuer true man such a torter byd : Was neuer state contayned such a story : Was neuer Angell worthy such a glory . O glorious glory , all in glory glorius ! Angells reioyced at his incarnation . O power-full vertue , of all power victorius The true redemption of his best creation ! O glorious life that made the diuells wonder , And glorious death that trode the diuells vnder ! Thus in his birth , his life , and death , all glory Hee dyd receiue : who was himselfe the same , The stately substance of that sacred storie , From whence the ground of highest glory came . When highest power , to highest glory raised , And all the hoast of heauen with glory praised . Was euer such ingratitude approued , Since heauen and earth for man , and man was made For onely God , who hild him his beloued , Till gracelesse sinne dyd make his glory fade : That hee , whom Angells with such reuerence vsed , Should bee by men refused and abused ? O liuely Image of the fathers loue ! O louely Image of the fathers life ! O pure conceipt that doth this concord proue , That all agreement breeds no thought of strife ! But that the Sonne in state of all the story , Is found the brightnesse of the Fathers glory . Could euer such a glory bee refused , By those that were in dutie to adore it ? Or could so great a glory bee refused , When Angells tremble , when they stand beefore it ? O man , woman , to wound thy soule so sore , To loose the glory so for euer-more ! Behould the heauens what sorrow they did show , And how the earth hir dolour did discrie . The Sunne was darck , and in the earth bee low , The buried bodies shewed their agonie . The temple rent , the heauens with anger moued , To see the death of the diuine beeloued . And yet thou man full little doest regard What thou hadst done vnto thy dearest loue . Thou mad'st more reckning of the worlds reward , Then of the blessing of thy soules be-houe . But ( wretched man ) descend into thy thought And with this sorrow weare thy selfe to naught . Yet some there were , too small a somme were they , That ioyd to see the somme of all their ioy : They watched the night , and walked in the day , And were not choked with the worlds annoy : But followed on their heauenly loue alone : Would God in heauen that I were such a one . But aye mee wretch , all wretched as I am , Vnworthy all to follow such a friend : In sweet remembrance of whose sweetest name , The ioyes beegin that neuer makes an end . Let mee but weep and sorrow , till I see How mercies loue will cast on looke on mee . And let mee heare but what my Sauiour saith , Hee once did die that I might euer liue : And that my soule by hir assured faith , May feele the comfort that his grace doth giue : That for his loue who sorrows heere so sore , Shall ioy in heauen , and neuer sorrow more .

Canto . 4. OH ioy aboue all ioyes . that euer were ! Could I conceiue but halfe thine excellence , Or how to hope to giue attendance there , Where thou dost keepe thy royall residence , And on my knees thy holy name adore : Were my soule well , shee should desier no more : To see the day that from an high is springing , To guide our feete into the way of peace , To heare the Virgins playing , Angells singing , The Psalmes of glory that shall neuer cease . To heare the sound of such a heauenly queare , Would it not ioy the soule to see and heare ? To see the Saints and Martyrs in their places , By highest grace with heauenly glory crowned : To see the kysses . and the sweet imbrace Of blessed soules , by constant saith renomed , To see the ground of all these sweet agreeing Were not these sights all sweetly worth the seeing ? The Diamond , Rubie , Saphir , and such like Of pretious gemmes that are the worldlings ioyes , And greatest princes for their crownes doe seeke , To heauenly treasuers are but trifling toyes , Wherewith the holy citie all is paued , And all the walls are round about in-graued : Nor hee that sits on the supernall throne , In maiestie most glorious to beehold , And houlds the septer of the world alone , Hath not his garment of imbrodered gold : But hee is clothed in truth and righteousnesse , The heauenly garments of true holynesse . Oh could my soule out of some Angells wyng By humble sute obtaine one onely pen : Might wright in honour of my glorious king , The ioy of Angells and the life of men . That all the world might fall vpon their faces , To heare the glory of his heauenly graces . But since I see his wonder worth is such , As doth exceed , the reach of humane sence , And all the earth vnworthy is to touch The smallest title of his excellence : Let mee referre vnto some Angells glory The happy writing of this heauenly story . Where this sweet King that on the white horse rideth , Vpon the wings of the celestiall winde , Neere whose sweet aier no blasting breath abideth , Nor stands the tree , that hee doth fruitlesse finde , Doth make all tremble where his glory goeth , Yea , where his mildnesse most his mercie showeth . Where heauenly loue is cause of holy life , And holy life increaseth heauenly loue : Where peace establisht without feare of strife , Doth proue the blessing of the soules beehaue : Where thirst , nor hunger , griefe , nor sorrow dwelleth , But peace in ioy , And ioye in peace excelleth . Oh ioyfull feare on vertuous loue ●ll founded ! O vertuous loue , in mercies glory graced ! O gracious loue , on faith in mercy grounded ! Oh faithfull loue , in heauenly fauour placed ! Oh settled loue , that cannot bee remoued ! Oh glorious loue , of glory so beeloued ! Where virgins ioye , in their virginitie , The vertuous spouse in vndefiled bed , And true deuines in true deuinitie , The gratious members in their glorious head . The sinners ioye , to escape damnation : And faithfull soules . in their saluation . Where sicke men ioy , to see their sweetest health , The prisoners ioy to see their libertie , The poore reioyce to see their sweetest wealth , The vertuous to adore the deitie : And I vnworthie most of all to see , The eies of mercie cast one looke on mee .

Canto . 5. BVT can my heart thus leaue hir holy loue , Or seace to sing of this hir highest sweet ? Hath Patience no more passions left to proue ? Hath phancie laboured out both hands and feete ? Or hath Inuention straind hir vaine so sore , That wit nor will hath power to write no more ? No , heauens forbid , that euer faithfull heart Should haue a weary thought of dooing well : But that the soule may summon euery part Of euery sence , where any thought may dwell , That may discharge the dutie of this care , To pen his praise , that is without compare . But since no eie can looke on him and liue , Nor heart can liue , but looking on his loue : Beehould the glory , that his grace doth giue , In all his works that doth such wonders proue . Than all the world may finde their witts to weake , But of the smallest of his praise to speake . Behould the earth how sweetly shee brings foorth Hir trees , hir flowers , hir herbs , and euery grasse Of sundry natures , of most secret worth : And how each branch doth others beautie passe : Both beasts , and birds , with fishes , wormes , and flies , How each their high creator glorifies . The Lions strength doth make him stand as king : The Vnicorne doth kill the poisons power : The roaring Bull doth make the woods to ring : The Tiger doth the cruell wolfe deuouer : The Elephant , the weightie burden beares , And rauening Wolues , are good yet for their heires . To see the Gray-hound course the Hart in chase , While litle Dormouse sleepeth out hir time . The Lambs and Rabits sweetly runne at base , Whilst highest trees the little Squirell clime . The crauling Wormes out creeping in the showers , And how the Snayle doe clyme the loftie towers . To see the Whale make furrowes in the seas , While sodainely the Dolphin strikes hir dead : Which hauing found the depth of his disease , Vpon the shore doth make his dying bed . Where heauens thus work for weaker hearts beehoue , Doth not this grace , a work of glory proue ? But since that all , Skye , Earth , or Sea containes , Was made for man , and man was onely made For onely God , who onely glory gaines , And that one glory that can neuer fade : Shall man forget to giue all glory due , Vnto his God from whom all glory grew ? But let mee come a little higher yet , To Sunne and Moone and euery Starre of light : To see how each doe in this order sit , Where euery one doth keepe his course aright : And all to guide these darkned eies of ours , Giue these not glory to the higher powers ? No , let not man shew himselfe so vngratefull , Vnto his God , that all in loue did make him , By thancklesse thoughts to make his spirit hatefull , Vnto his king that neuer will forsake him . But let his soule to God all glory giue , In whome , doth all loue , life , and glory liue . And let mee wretch , ( vnworthy most of all To lift mine eies vnto his louely seat , ) Beefore the feete but of his mercy fall , And of his mercy but the leaue intreate : That with his seruants I may sit , and sing An ALLELVIAH to my heauenly King .

Canto . 6. COme all the world , and call your wits together , Borrow some pennes , out of the Angells wings : Intreate the heauens to send their Muses hether To help , your soules to write of sacred things . Prophane conceits , must all bee cast away : The night is past , and you must take the day . Speake not of sinne , it beareth no part heere : But write of grace and whence hir glory grue : Think of the loue , that to the life is deere , And , of the life , to whome all loue is due . And then sit downe in glory all to sing , All to the glory of our glorious King . First , make your grounds of faithfull holinesse : Then , your deuisions of deuine desires : Let all your rests bee hopes of happinesse , Which mercies Musicke in the soule requires : Let all your sharps bee feares of faithfull harts , And all your flats the death of your desarts . Yet rise and fall , as hope and feare directs , The nature of each note , in space or line : And let your voices carry such effects , As may approue your passions are deuine . Then let your consorts all in one agree , To God alone , all onely glory bee . Then let the dittie bee the deerest thought , That may reuiue the dying hart of loue , That onely mercy in the soule hath wrought , The happie comfort of the heauens to proue . Then let your sounds vnto the heauens ascend , And all your closes , all in glory end . Glory to him , that sitteth on the throne , With all the hoast of all the heauens attended : Who all things made , and gouernes all alone , Vanquisht his foes , and all his flock defended , And by his power his chosen soules preserueth : So , sing his praise that so all praise deserueth . And whilst all soules are to their glory singing , Let mee poore wretch not wholly hold my peace : But , let my teares , from mercie glory springing , Keepe time to that sweet song may neuer seace . That while my soule doth thus my God adore : I may yet sing AMEN , although no more . Gloria in excelsis Deo . Amen .