Thy glorious name! which grant I may so do, That these may be thy praise, and my joy too!
Lord Jesus! with what sweetness and delights, Sure, holy hopes, high joys, and quickening flights, Dost thou feed thine! O thou! the hand that lifts To him who gives all good and perfect gifts, Thy glorious, bright ascension, though removed So many ages from me, is so proved
And by thy Spirit sealed to me, that I Feel me a sharer in thy victory!
I soar and rise
Up to the skies,
Leaving the world their day;
And in my flight
For the true light
Go seeking all the way;
I greet thy sepulchre, salute thy grave, That blest enclosure, where the angels gave The first glad tidings of thy early light, And resurrection from the earth and night. I see that morning in thy convert's1 tears, Fresh as the dew, which but this dawning wears. I smell her spices; and her ointment yields As rich a scent as the now primrosed fields. The day-star smiles, and light with the deceased Now shines in all the chambers of the east. What stirs, what posting intercourse and mirth Of saints and angels glorify the earth? What sighs, what whispers, busy stops and stays, Private and holy talk, fill all the ways? They pass as at the last great day, and run
14 'Thy convert: St Mary Magdalene.
In their white robes to seek the risen Sun;
I see them, hear them, mark their haste, and move Amongst them, with them, winged with faith and love. Thy forty days' more secret commerce here After thy death and funeral, so clear
And indisputable, shows to my sight
As the sun doth, which to those days gave light. I walk the fields of Bethany, which shine
All now as fresh as Eden, and as fine.
Such was the bright world on the first seventh day, Before man brought forth sin, and sin decay; When like a virgin clad in flowers and green The pure earth sat, and the fair woods had seen No frost, but flourished in that youthful vest With which their great Creator had them dressed: When heaven above them shined like molten glass, While all the planets did unclouded pass;
And springs, like dissolved pearls, their streams did pour, Ne'er marred with floods, nor angered with a shower. With these fair thoughts I move in this fair place, And the last steps of my mild Master trace. I see him leading out his chosen train
All sad with tears, which like warm summer rain In silent drops steal from their holy eyes, Fixed lately on the cross, now on the skies. And now, eternal Jesus! thou dost heave
Thy blessed hands to bless those thou dost leave. The cloud doth now receive thee, and their sight Having lost thee, behold two men in white! Two and no more: 'What two attest is true,' Was thine own answer to the stubborn Jew. Come then, thou faithful Witness! come, dear Lord, Upon the clouds again to judge this world!
1 Father of lights! what sunny seed, What glance of day hast thou confined Into this bird? To all the breed This busy ray thou hast assigned;
Their magnetism works all night, And dreams of paradise and light.
2 Their eyes watch for the morning hue, Their little grain-expelling night So shines and sings, as if it knew The path unto the house of light.
It seems their candle, howe'er done, Was tinned and lighted at the sun.
3 If such a tincture, such a touch, So firm a longing can empower, Shall thy own image think it much To watch for thy appearing hour?
If a mere blast so fill the sail,
Shall not the breath of God prevail?
4 O thou immortal light and heat!
Whose hand so shines through all this frame,
That by the beauty of the seat,
We plainly see who made the same,
Seeing thy seed abides in me,
Dwell thou in it, and I in thee!
5 To sleep without thee is to die; Yea, 'tis a death partakes of hell: For where thou dost not close the eye It never opens, I can tell.
In such a dark, Egyptian border, The shades of death dwell, and disorder.
6 If joys, and hopes, and earnest throes, And hearts, whose pulse beats still for light, Are given to birds; who, but thee, knows A love-sick soul's exalted flight?
Can souls be tracked by any eye
But his, who gave them wings to fly?
7 Only this veil which thou hast broke, And must be broken yet in me, This veil, I say, is all the cloak And cloud which shadows me from thee. This veil thy full-eyed love denies, And only gleams and fractions spies.
8 Oh, take it off! make no delay; But brush me with thy light, that I May shine unto a perfect day, And warm me at thy glorious eye! Oh, take it off! or till it flee, Though with no lily, stay with me!
1 Dear friend, sit down, and bear awhile this shade, As I have yours long since. This plant you see So pressed and bowed, before sin did degrade Both you and it, had equal liberty
2 With other trees; but now, shut from the breath And air of Eden, like a malcontent
It thrives nowhere. This makes these weights, like
And sin, hang at him; for the more he's bent
3 The more he grows. Celestial natures still Aspire for home. This Solomon of old, By flowers, and carvings, and mysterious skill Of wings, and cherubims, and palms, foretold.
4 This is the life which, hid above with Christ In God, doth always (hidden) multiply, And spring, and grow, a tree ne'er to be priced, A tree whose fruit is immortality.
5 Here spirits that have run their race, and fought, And won the fight, and have not feared the frowns Nor loved the smiles of greatness, but have wrought Their Master's will, meet to receive their crowns.
6 Here is the patience of the saints: this tree Is watered by their tears, as flowers are fed With dew by night; but One you cannot see Sits here, and numbers all the tears they shed.
7 Here is their faith too, which if you will keep When we two part, I will a journey make To pluck a garland hence while you do sleep, And weave it for your head against you wake.
1 Thou, who dost flow and flourish here below, To whom a falling star and nine days' glory, Or some frail beauty, makes the bravest show, Hark, and make use of this ensuing story.
When first my youthful, sinful age Grew master of my ways,
Appointing error for my page,
And darkness for my days;
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