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All things, desires, and loues are vaine, But only that which tends To God alone our cheifest good, And all things ells transcends. My soul therefor by this sweet Loue shall day, and night aspire, And rest in God, (all things above) My Loue, and lifes desire. And while I liue, Ile neuer cease To languish for his Loue, Breathing, and sighing after him, Till he my life remoue. For since I am not where I loue, How can I comfort find, But only in the song of Loue By Loue to me assign’d? And where so ere this word is writt, It yeilds a siluer sound; But if that word I misse in it Me thinks I want my ground. Nothing so simple can be pennd If it but treat of Loue, But that it serueth in some sort My sadnes to remoue. And shall my soul by senselesse loue, Which yet is neuer true, Bestow more loue where it is lost, Then where’t is only due? O no my God, but rather lett Such folly be to me A meanes to vrge my sinnefull soul To Loue more fernently! And hencefoth lett me draw no breath, But to aspire by Loue To thee my God, and all my good By whom I liue and moue. No Stagge in chace so thirsty is, Or greedy of sweet spring, As is my soul of thee my God While I here sighing sing. My soul where is thy Loue, and Lord, Since him thou canst not find? O cheere vp hart, be comforted, For he is in thy mind! To him relation thou maist haue, As often as thou goes Into the closett of thy hart, Thy griefs for to disclose. As silly Lambes from rauening Woolues For help to Sheapheards fly, So shall my soul in every case For help, and councell hye, To thee my God by humble Prayer, In hope, and confidence, That thou my Lord willt succour me, And be my soules defence. And seeing that my God is rich How can I say, I’m poore? And hee more myne, then I myne owne: What can I wish for more? And in his Maiesty, and power, Much more I will reioice, Then if of all in heaven, and earth I had commaund, and choice. My God one thing alone thou know’st I feare and apprehend, Which is my Lord for to displease, Whose mercies haue no end. From all that doth displease thyne eyes, Be pleas’d to sett me free, For nothing ells in heauen, or earth, Do I desire but thee. And lett me rather death embrace, Then thee my God offend, Or in my hart to giue thy place To any other freind. Nothing would greiue my soul so much, As in me to perceaue Any affection in the world That thine would me bereaue. I know thou must possesse alone, Or els we are not thine, In such good plight as we should be, If light to vs did shine, As thou desirest it should do By grace our soules within; For which are all the helps we haue Intended, and haue been Imparted, and bestowed by thee, That we might liue alone To thee who satiat’st pure soules With ioyes that that are vnknown. And wo to them a thousand times, Who interest haue in any, Or haue deuided harts to thee, After thy gifts so many. For thou hast purchased our loue At too too deare a rate, To have a partner in our hart, Which iustly thou dost hate. O this thy wrong makes Angells blush O make it farre from me Since that I am both body and soul All consecrate to thee! And I also will greiue with them, To see thee haue such wrong From soules selected by thy self To sing with them the song Of Loue, and praise to thee, O God, And euen in this place To Contemplate thee, as we may, O sweet and happy grace! If we woud dy vnto our selues And all things ells but thee, It would be naturall to our soules For to ascend, and be Vnited to our Center deare, To which our soules would hy, Being as proper then to vs, As fire to upwards fly. O lett vs therefor loue my God, For Loue pertaines to him, And lett our soules seek nothing ells, But in this Loue to swimme, Till we absorpt by his sweet Loue Return from whom we came, Where we shall melt into that Loue, Which ioyeth me to name. And neuer can I it too much Speak of, or it desire, Since that my God, who’s Loue it selfe, Doth only Loue require. Come therfor all, and lett vs loue And with a pure aspect, Regard our God in all we do, And he will vs protect. O that all things vpon the earth, Re-ecchoed with thy praise My everlasting glorious God, The Ancient of dayes! And it I wish with all my soul Incessantly to sing; But seeing this I cannot do, My sighes to heauen shall ring; Yea if I writ out all the sea, Yet could I not expresse The ioy, and comfort I do feele In what thou dost possesse. No gifts, or grace, nor comforts heere How great so ere they be, Can satiat my longing soul, While I possesse not thee. For thou art all my harts desire, Yea all that I do craue, In earth, or heauen now, and euer Thou art all that I would haue. And I do wish with all my soul, That to thee I could pray, With all my hart, and all my strength Ten thowsand times a day. Lett peoples, tribes, and tongues confesse Vnto thy Maiesty; And lett vs neuer cease to sing Sanctus, Sanctus to thee.
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