My God to thee I dedicate This simple work of mine, And also with it hart and soul; To be for ever thine. No other motiue wil I haue, Then by it thee to praise. And stir vp my poor frozen soul By loue it-self to raise. O I desir neither tongue, nor pen But to extol Gods praise, In which exces le melt away Ten thousand thousand ways, And as one that is sick with loue1“I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love” (Canticles 5:8, Douay-Rheims Bible). Engraues on euery Tree The Name and Praise of him she loues So shal it be with me.