The soules harmony. Written by Nicholas Breton

THE Soules Harmony .

Written by Nicholas Breton .

Imprinted at London by S. Stafford , for Randoll Bearkes : And are to be sold at the signe of the white Vnicorne in Popes-head Alley . 1602.

To the right Honourable and vertuous Lady , the Lady Sara Hastings , Nicholas Breton wisheth all happinesse in this world , and eternall ioyes hereafter .

RIght Honourable , your zealous loue to diuine studies , hath made the Muses of that Nature , to present your fauour , with the best fruites of their delights , which in the exercise of their spirituall Contemplations , haue brought sorth these comfortable Meditations : which bound vp in this little volume , they haue presumed with my seruice , to present to your good Ladyship , beseeching the same , with that good fauour to accept them , that may vnder heauen be the greatest grace , that they desire vnto them . It is intituled , The Harmony of the Soule , who in the gracious thoughts of Gods blessing , and humble talke with his mercy , thinkes her selfe halfe in heauen ere shee come there : where , after that you haue passed a happy pilgrimage on this earth , God send you the eternall felicitie of the faithfull .

Your Ladyships in all humblenesse , Nicholas Breton .

The Soules Harmony . GOD . GRace in all Glories height , On whom all Glories waite , Describes my ioyes conceite .

IESVS . IOy in the highest of the height of ioy , Holding the state of the Celestiall story Eternall life , that doth all deaths destroy , Sonne to that grace , that makes the Fathers Glory , Vnmatched Power , in Mercies Princely might : Such is the substance of my Soules delight .

CHRIST . CLeere is the Sunne , that doth for euer shine , Heauenly that light , that giues al eyes their seeing , Royal that Crown , which neuer can decline , Imperious Power , that giues all powers their being . Such is the Power , the Crown , the Light , the Sun , That neuer ends where Glory first begun .

MY soules loues life , & lifes loues soules delight , How highly are thy holy Angels blest , That in thy grace enioy the glorious sight , Wherein the summe of all their ioy doeth rest ! What heauenly musike may those Muses sing , Who set their consorts by thy sacred skill , And Angels quauers make the Quiere to ring , While vertues Ayre doe all the voyces fill ? How may those Spirits be with ioyes possest , That may be rauisht with this Royall sight , Where Peter sawe , and in his seeing blest My soules lifes loue , and loues lifes soules delight ! Oh blessed Peter , blest in such a seeing : Well might he sing , Sweet Lord , here is good being .

O Gracious God , and Lord of mercies might , Why do I liue amid this world of woes ? When euery day doth seeme to me as night , While sorrowes seeke my Spirites ouerthrowes . I heare thy word , and would obey thy will , But want the power , that might performe my due : I know the good , and fayne would leaue the ill , And feare the sorrow , that doth sinne ensue : And yet I fall into that depth of sinne , That makes me feare the iudgement of thy wrath , Vntill thy grace doth all my helpe beginne , To know what comfort , Faith in Mercy hath . Oh blessed light , that shewes in Mercies eye , While faith doth liue , that loue can neuer die .

LOrd , when I thinke how I offend thy will , And know what good is in obedience to it , And see my hurt , and yet continue still In doing ill , and cannot leaue to doe it ; And then againe , doe feele that bitter smart , That inward breeds , of pleasures after payne , When scarce the thought is entred in my heart , But it is gone , and sinne gets in againe : And when , againe , the act of sinne is past , And that thy grace doth call me backe againe : Then in my teares I runne to thee as fast , And of my sinnes , and of my selfe complayne . What can I doe , but cry , Sweet Iesus , saue me ▪ For I am nothing , but what thou wilt haue me .

O Lord that liuest in that life of life , Which all thou art , and of thy selfe alone : Whose sacred word is that soules cutting knife , That doth deuide the marrow from the bone . O glorious God , of grace and mercy more , Then heart and soule are able to conceaue , And seest the teares that mercy doth implore , And wilt not Faith in feares discomfort leaue . My God , my Lord , my soules lifes dearest loue , How so my sinnes haue thy displeasure moued , Let my soulesteares thy glorious mercy moue , To make me feele , how faith may be beloued , That being set from sinne and sorrow free , I may not cease to sing in praise of thee .

MY heauenly Loue , from that high throne of thine Where gracious mercy sits in Glories seat , In that true pity of thy Power diuine , That dries the teares , that mercy doe entreat , Behold , sweet Lord , these bleeding drops of loue , That melt my soule in sorrow of my sinne , And let these showres some drops of mercy moue , That in my griefe my comfort may beginne . Let not despaire confound my praying hope , That begs an almes at thy mercies gate : But let thy grace thy hand of bountie ope , That comfort yeelds , which neuer comes too late , That in the cure of my consuming griefe , My ioyfull soule may sing of thy reliefe .

OH , that my soule were purified so , It might no more be subiect vnto sin , And that my care might onely seeke to know , How humble grace doth mercies loue begin . Oh , that my thoughts , my words & deeds were such , As might not swarue from my deare Sauiours will , And that my truth might neuer haue a tutch Of false conceit , for to excuse mine ill , And that this world were vnto me a hell , But where I see his Saints in their loues seruice , And I might die , till I might liue to dwell In some such place , to do some pleasing office , That he might be , who doth my death destroy ▪ All aboue all , and all in all , my Ioy .

THe worldly prince doeth in his Septer hold A kind of heauen in his authorities : The wealthy miser , in his masse of gold , Makes to his soule a kind of Paradice : The Epicure , that eates and drinkes all day , Accounts no Heauen , but in his hellish rowtes : And she , whose beauty seemes a sunny day , Makes vp her heauen , but in her babies clowtes . But , my sweete God , I seeke no Princes power , No misers wealth , nor beauties fading glosse , Which pamper sin , whose sweetes are inward sowre , And sorry gaynes , that breed the Spirits losse . No , my deare Lord , let my Heauen onely bee In my Louesseruice , but to liue to thee .

O God , forgiue the greatnesse of my finne : I am not worthy to implore thy Grace , The loathsome stinke , that I lie tumbling in , With filthy shame hath couered all my face . I haue deseru'd the depth of all thine ire , To know thy will , yet wilfully offend , My soule deserues , in the infernall fire , To feele the torments that shall neuer end . But Lord , thy mercy is aboue thy wrath , Thou doest not ioy , to see a sinners death , And true repentance in thy mercie hath The blessed food , that giues the spirit breath , Where praying hope , in heart can perish neuer . While humble faith doth liue in ioy for euer .

WHat is the gold of all this world ? but drosse ; The ioy , but sorrow , and the pleasure , payne , The wealth , but beggery , & the gayne but losse , The wit , but folly , and the vertue vayne ; The power , but weakenesse , and but death the life , The hope , but feare , and the assurance dout , The trust , deceit , the concord but a strife , Where one conceit doth put another out ; Time but an instant , and the vse a toyle , The knowledge , blindnesse , & the care a madnesse , The siluer , lead , the diamond , but a foyle , The rest , but trouble , and the mirth but sadnesse . Thus since to heauen compar'd , the earth is such , What thing is man , to loue the world so much ?

OH , would man thinke but on that world of ioy , Which in the heauens the chosen shall receiue , And then againe , vpon this worlds annoy , Where hellish baytes the wicked do deceiue ! Would he but looke vpon the Angels graces , The Paradises of their heauenly pleasures , And then , vpon the deuils ougly faces , With all their torments endles without measures ! Would men thus make a difference in their minds , Twixt light and darkenesse , and the day , and night , Then would sinne die , that with illusion blinds The eye of nature from her blessed sight , And man would loue the good , & hate the euill And honour God , and tread vpon the deuill .

SOme heauenly Muse come helpe me sing , In Glorie of my heauenly King : And from some holy Angels wing , Where Graces doe for feathers spring , Oh bring my hand one blessed Pen , To write beyond the reach of men : Let all the subiect be of Grace , Where Mercy set in Glories place , Doth stand before that shining face , That makes all other beauty base : That Heauen and earth may see the wonder , That puts all worths and wonders vnder : Let Vertues onely set the grounds , Where Grace but all of Glory sounds , While Mercie heales the spirits wounds : Where faith the feare of death confounds : That heauen and earth may ioy to heare , The Musike of the Angels queere . Oh tell the world , no world can tell , How that Ioy doth all ioyes excell , Where blessed soules set free from hell , In Mercy do with Glory dwell , And with the Saint , and Angels sing , In glory of their heauenly King : Sinke not a note beneath the sence , Of Glories highest excellence , And keepe vnto that onely Tence , Where heauens haue all their honour thence : That Seraphins may clap their wings , To heare how Grace , of Glory sings . Oh , let the Sunne in brightnes shine , And neuer let the Moone decline , And euery starre his light refine , Before that blessed light diuine : Of whome , in whom , from whom alone , They haue their shining euery one . Let all the Azure skie be cleare , And not a mistie cloud come neere , But all that brightest light appeare , Where Angels make their merrie cheere , And all the troope of heauens may see , Where all the ioyes of heauen may be . Let Phoebus in his brightnes stay : And driue the darkesome nights away , And Virgins , Saints , and Angels play , While Martyres keepe high holy-day : And all the hoast of heauen accord , To sing in glory of the Lord . Let all the yeere be Summers spring , And Nightingales all Birds that sing , And all the fruites that grow or spring , Be brought vnto this glorious King , With all their colours and their sweetes , Before his feete to strow the streetes : Let hony-dewes perfume the ayre , That all may be both sweet and fayre , That may with Mercies leaue repayre , Vnto the seate of Glories Chayre : That euery thing may fitting fall , Vnto the Glory of them all . Let all the hearts , the soules , the mindes , That wisdome vnto vertue bindes , And breedes but of those blessed kindes , That gracious loue in glory findes , Agree together all in one , To glorifie our God alone . And when they all in turne are set , And in their swettest musike met , And highest skill the note hath fet , Where grace may highest glory get ; My rauisht soule in mercy then , May haue but leaue to sing , Amen . Gloria in excelsis Deo .

PRayse , in the highest of the height of prayse , Strayne vp thy heart vnto thy spirits note , There , 〈◊〉 the worth , where all thy wonder stayes , Write to the wits of all the world to quote : Tell them , oh tell them , that thou canst not tell , What grace and glory thy deare God deserueth , Whose Excellence all excellence doth excell , While him alone , all excellency serueth . Life , loue , trueth , power , grace , pity , bounty , glory , Health , comfort , wisdome , vertue , mercy , peace ; These in the state of the celestiall story , Doe sound the glory that shall neuer cease , Whose holy prayses to more height arise , Then earth or heauen , or Angels can deuise : Gloria in excelsis Deo .

O That my heart could hit vpon a strayne , Would strike the musike of my soules desire : Or that my soule could find that sacred vayne , That sets the consort of the Angels Quiere : Or that that Spirit of especiall grace , That cannot stowpe beneath the state of heauen , Within my soule would take his setled place , With Angels Ens , to make his glory euen . Then should the name of my most gracious King , And glorious God , in higher tunes bee sounded , Of heauenly prayse , then earth hath power to sing , Where heauen & earth , & Angels are confounded . And soules may sing while all heart-strings are broken , His praise is more , then can in praise be spoken . Gloria in excelsis Deo .

WHen Iob had lost his children , lands & goods , Patience did kill the poyson of his payne : And when his sorrowes came as fast as floods , Hope kept his heart , till comfortes came agayne . When Dauids life by Saul was often sought , And worlds of crosses compast him about , Yet was his spirit neuer ouer-wrought , But in his woes , hope still did helpe him out . When the sore Cripple by the poole did lye , Full many a yeere in misery and payne , His heart on Christ no sooner set his eye , But teares mou'd grace , and he was well agayne . No Iob , nor Dauid , Cripple more in griefe : Christ giue me patience , and my hope reliefe .

FINIS .