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So that the latter death may not devour
Who for the state of mankind grier'd,
When th' evening of the world drew near,
Thou as a bridegroom deign'st to come
Thy virgin mother's purest womb:
To the strong force of whose high reiga
All knees are bow'd with gesture low, Him, whom the earth, the sea, and sky
Creatures which Heav'n on Earth contain
With rev'rence their subjection show.
O holy Lord! we thee desire,
Whom we expect to judge all faults,
Preserve us, as the times require,
From our deceitful foes' assaults.
Praise, honour, strength, and glory great,
To God the Father, and the Son, Whose Maker, Lord of highest power,
And to the holy Paraclete,
Whilst time lasts, and when time is done.
HYMN FOR SUNDAY.
O BLEST Creator of the light,
Who bringing forth the light of days, Lord, may thy glory still endure,
With the first work of splendour bright
The world didst to beginning raise ;
Who morn with evening join'd in one
Commandedst should be call'd the day:
O hear us when with tears we pray:
Lest that the mind, with fears full fraught,
Should lose best life's eternal gains, Who art the crown which virgins decks,
While it hath no immortal thought, Whom a pure maid did breed and bear,
But is enwrapt in sinful chains. The sole example of her sex.
O may it beat the inmost sky, Thou feeding there where lilies spring,
And the reward of life possess ! Wbile round about the virgins dance,
May we from hurtful actions fly, Thy spouse dost to glory bring,
And purge away all wickedness! And them with high rewards advance.
Dear Father, grant what we entreat, The virgins follow in thy ways
And only Son, who like pow'r hast, Whithersoever thou dost go,
Together with the Paraclete,
Reigning whilst times and ages last.
In all our senses to abound,
HYMN FOR MONDAY.
Great Maker of the Heavens wide, Praise, honour, strength, and glory great,
Who, lest things mix'd should all confonnd, To God the Father, and the Son,
The floods and waters didst divide, And to the holy Paraclete
And didst appoint the Heav'ns their bound; While time lasts, and when time is done.
Ordering where heav'nly things shall stay,
Where streams sball run on earthly soil,
That waters may the flames allay,
Lest they the globe of Earth should spoil.
Sweet Lord, into our minds infuse Eternal Light of faithful eyes,
The gift of everlasting grace, Christ, whose redemption none debars,
That no old faults which we did use Do not our humble prayers despise.
May with new frauds our souls deface.
May our true faith obtain the light,
That sin no soul opprest may thrall, And such clear beams our hearts possess,
That none be lifted high with pride, That it vain things inay banish quite,
That minds cast downwards do not fall, And that no falsehood it oppress.
Nor raised up may backward slide. Dear Father, grant what we entreat, &c.
Dear Father, &c.
HYMN FOR TUESDAY. GREAT Maker of man's earthly realm,
Who didst the ground from waters take Which did the troubled land o'erwhelm,
And it immovable didst make; That there young plants might fitly spring,
While it with golden flow'rs attir'd Might forth ripe fruit in plenty bring,
And yield sweet fruit by all desir'd: With fragrant greenness of thy grace,
Our blasted souls of wounds release, That tears foul sins away may chase,
And in the mind bad motions cease,
And never drawing near to ill,
And may no mortal sin fulfil.
HYMN FOR FRIDAY. God, from whose work mankind did spring,
Who all in rule dost only keep Bidding the dry land forth to bring
All kind of beasts which on it creep ; Who hast made subject to man's hand
Great bodies of each mighty thing, That, taking life from thy command,
They might in order serve their King; From us thy servants, Lord, expel
Those errours which uņcleanness breeds, Which either in our manners dwell,
Or mix themselves among our deeds. Give the rewards of joyful life ;
The plenteous gifts of grace increase; Dissolve the cruel bonds of strife ;
Knit fast the happy league of peace. Dear Pather, &c.
HYMN FOR WEDNESDAY. O HOLY God of heav'nly frame,
Who mak'st the pole's wide centre bright, And paint'st the same with shining fame,
Adorning it with beauteous light; Who framing, on the fourth of days,
The fiery chariot of the Sun, Appoint'st the Moon her changing rays,
And orbs in which the planets run; That thou might'st by a certain bound
'Twixt night and day division make; And that some sure sign might be found
To show when months beginning take; Men's hearts with lightsome splendour bless,
Wipe from their minds polluting spots, Dissolve the bond of guiltiness,
Throw down the heaps of sinful blots, Dear Father, &c.
HYMN FOR THURSDAY. O GOD, whose forces far extend,
Who creatures which from waters spring Back to the food dost partly send,
And up to th' air dost partly bring; Some in the waters deeply div'd,
Some playing in the Heav'ns above, That natures from one stock deriv'd
May thus to several dwellings move: Upon thy servants grace bestow,
Whose souls thy bloody waters clear, That they no sinful falls may know,
Nor heavy grief of death may bear;
CHRIST, whose redemption all doth free,
Son of the Father, who alone, Before the world began to be,
Didst spring from him by means unknown ; Thou his clear brightness, thou his light,
Thou everlasting hope of all,
Thy servants through the world let fall.
That of our body thou, a child,
Born of the Virgin undefil'd.
Passing the circuit of the year,
The world's sole safety didst appear.
The highest Heaven, the earth, and seas,
Let thine own goodness to thee bend, And all that is within them found,
That thou our sins may'st put to flight; Because he sent thee us to ease,
Spare us—and, as our wishes tend, With mirthful songs his praise resound.
O satisfy us with thy sight! We also, who redeemed are
May'st thou our joyful pleasures be, With thy pure blood from sinful state,
Who shall be our expected gain ; For this thy birth-day will prepare
And let our glory be in thee, New byn this feast to celebrate.
While any ages shall remain. Glory, O Lord, be given to thee,
Whom the unspotted Virgin bore; And glory to thee, Father, be,
HYMN FOR WHITSUNDAY. And th' Holy Ghost, for evermore.
CREATOR, Holy Ghost, descend;
Visit our minds with thy bright flame;
And thy celestial grace extend
To fill the hearts which thou didst frame:
Gift which the highest God bestows; The enemy of Christ devours,
Fountain of life, fire, charity, As whirlwinds down the roses cast:
Ointment whence ghostly blessing flows. First sacrifice to Christ you went, Of offer'd lambs a tender sort;
Thy sevenfold grace thou down dost send,
Of God's right hand thou finger art;
Thou, by the Father promised,
Unto our mouths dost speech impart.
UPON THE SUNDAYS IN LENT.
In our dull senses kindle light;
Infuse thy love into our hearts;
Th’ infirmities of fleshly parts.
And quickly peace unto us bring;
That we may shun each hurtful thing.
O MERCIFUL Creator, hear
Our pray’rs to thee devoutly bent, Which we pour forth with inany a tear
In this most holy fast of Lent. Thou mildest searcher of each heart,
Who know'st the weakvess of our strength, To us forgiving grace impart,
Since we return to thee at length. Much have we sinned, to our shame;
But spare us, wbo our sins confess; And, for the glory of thy name,
To our sick souls afford redress. Grant that the Besh may be so pin'd
By means of outward abstinence, As that the sober watchful mind
May fast from spots of all offence. Grant this, O blessed Trinity !
Pure Unity, to this inclineThat the effects of fasts may be
A grateful recompense for thine.
Be pleased to instruct our mind,
To know the Father and the Son ;
Let us believe while ages run.
And to the Son, who from the dead
Beyond all time imagined.
TRANSFIGURATION OF OUR LORD,
THE SIXTH OF AUGUST.
ON THE ASCENSION DAY.
Jesu, who our souls dost save,
On whom our love and hopes depend; God from whom all things being have,
Man when the world drew to an end; What clemency thee vanquish'd so,
Upon thee our foul crimes to take, And cruel death to undergo,
That thou from death us free might make?
All you that seek Christ, let your sight
Up to the height directed be,
Of everlasting glory see.
Endless, unbounded, lofty, high;
Wherein the world confus'd did lie.
The Jews obey this king's command,
A blessing while the world shall stand.
By mouths of prophets free from lyes,
It was not pity, pain, grief, did possess Who seal the witness which they bear,
The mother, but an agony more strange: His Father bidding tes:ifies
Cheeks' roses in pale lilies straight did change; That we should him believe and hear.
Her sp'rits, as if she bled his blood, turn’d less;
When she him saw, we did all words deny,
And grief her only suffer'd sigh, O my!
“ O my dear Lord and Son!” then she began; And to the Holy Ghost, for aye.
“ Immortal birth, though of a mortal born;
Without a mother, God; a father, man!
Ah! what hast thou deserv'd? what hast thou FEAST OF ST. MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL.
Thus to be treat? Woe's me, my son, my son ! To thee, O Christ! thy Father's light, Life, virtue, which our heart inspires,
“ Who bruis'd thy face, the glory of this all ? In presence of thine angels bright,
Who eyes engor'd, load-stars to paradise? We sing with voice and with desires :
Who, as thou wert a trimmed sacrifice, Ourselves we mutually invite,
Did with that cruel crown thy brows impale? To melody with answering choirs.
Wbo rais'd thee, whom so oft the angels serv’d,
Between those thieves who that foul death deserv'd ? With reverence we these soldiers praise, Who near the heavenly throne abide ;
“ Was it for this thou bred wast in my womb ? And chiefly him whom God doth raise,
Mine arms a cradle serv'd thee to repose ? His strong celestial host to guide
My milk thee fed, as morning dew the rose ? Michael, who by his power dismays
Did I thee keep till this sad time should come, And beateth down the Devil's pride.
That wretched men should nail thee to a tree,
And I a witness of thy pangs must be ?
“ It is not long, the way's bestrew'd with flow'rs,
With shouts to echoing Heav'ns and mountains rollid, AFTER THE DENIAL OF HIS MASTER.
Since, as in triumph, I thee did behold Like to the solitary pelican,
In royal pomp approach proud Sion's tow'rs : The shady groves, 1 baunt, and deserts wild, Lo, what a change! Who did thee then embrace, Amongst wood's burgesses; from sight of man, Now at thee shake their heads, inconstant race! From Earth's delight, froin mine own self exild. But that remorse, which with my fall began, “ Eternal Father! from whose piercing eye Relenteth not, nor is by change turn'd mild; Hid nought is found that in this all is form'd, But rends my soul, and, like a famish'd child, Deign to vouchsafe a look unto this round, Renevs its cries, though nurse does what she can. This round, the stage of a sad tragedy : Look how the shrieking bird that courts the night Look but if thy dear pledge thou here canst know, In mind wall doth lurk, and gloomy place : On an unhappy tree a shameful show ! Of Sun, of Moon, of stars, I shun the light, Not knowing where to stay, what to embrace: “ Ah ! look if this be he, Almighty King, How to Heaven's lights should I lift these of mine, Before Heav'ns spangled were with stars of gold, Sith I denied him who made them shine!
Ere world a center had it to uphold,
Whom from eternity thou forth didst bring; With virtue, form, and light who did adorn
Sky's radiant globes--see where he hangs a scorn! ON THE VIRGIN MARY.
“ Did all my prayers tend to this? Is this The woful Mary, 'midst a blubber'd band
The promise that celestial herald made
I happy was, and from thee did me bless ? Like to a plaintful nightingale did stand,
How am i blest ? No, most unhappy I
« How true and of choice oracles the choice Of these sad news, which charg'd her mind to fears;
Was that blest Hebrew, whose dear eyes in peace But now her eyes, more wretched than her tears,
Mild death did close ere they saw this disgrace, Bear witness (ah, too true!) of feared grief :
When he forespake with more than angel's voice; Her doubts made certain did her hopes destroy,
The Son should (malice sign) be set apart, Abandoning her soul to black annoy.
Then that a sword should pierce the mother's heart! Long fixing downcast eyes on earth, at last “ But whither dost thou go, life of my soul ? She longing them did raise (O torturing sight!) O stay a little till I die with thee! To view what they did shun, their sole delight And do I live thee languishing to see?
Imbru'd in his own blood, and naked plac'd And cannot grief frail laws of life controul? To sinful eyes; naked, save that black veil If grief prove weak, come, cruel squadrons, kill Which Heaven him shrouded with, that did bewail. The mother, spare the Son, he knows no ill :
“ He knows no ill; those pangs, base men, are To me, and all the world, save him alone; (due But now he doth not bear my bitter moan ;
SONNETS AND MADRIGALS. Too late I cry, too late I plaints renew : Pale are his lips, down doth his head decline, Dim turn those eyes once wont so bright to shine.
SONNET. “ The Heavens which in their mansions constant move,
Lot Fortune triumph now, and to sing,
Ungrateful Earth, canst thou such shame ap- Now wicked trophies in her temple rear.
Let her vaunt how my bliss she did impair,
Let her count how (a new Ixion) me
She in her wheel did turn; how high or low The mother stood, with grief confounded,
I never stood, but more to tortur'd be. Near the cross; her tears abounded,
Weep soul, weep plaintful soul, thy sorrows knos; While her dear son hanged was,
Weep, of thy tears till a black river swell, Through whose soul her sighs forth venting,
Which may Cocytus be to this thy Hell. Sadly mourning and lamenting,
Sharpest points of swords did pass :
O NIGHT, clear night, O dark and gloomy day! She in grief and woes did languish,
O woeful waking ! O soul-pleasing sleep! Quaking to behold what anguish
O sweet conceits which in my brains did creep! To her noble Son was wrought.
Yet sour conceits which went so soon away.
For, clos'd in arms, methought I did thee keep
A sorry wretch plung'd in misfortunes deep.
Ain I not wak'd, when light doth lyes bewray? JERUSALEM, that place divine,
O that that night had ever still been black ! The vision of sweet peace is nam'd,
O that that day had never yet begun ! In Heaven her glorious turrets shine,
And you, mine eyes, would ye no time saw sup ! Her walls of living stones are fram'd;
To have your sun in such a zodiac: While angels guard her on each side,
Lo, what is good of life is but a dream, Fit company for such a bride.
When sorrow is a never ebbing stream. She, deck'd in new attire from Heaven,
Her wedding chamber now descends,
So grievous is my pain, su painful life,
That oft I find me in the arms of death;
But, breath half gone, that tyrant called Death, The gates, adorn'd with pearls most bright, Who others kills, restoreth me to life: The way to hidden glory show;
For while I think how woe shall end with life, And thither, by the blessed might
And that I quiet peace shall 'joy by death, Of faith in Jesus' merits, go
That thought ev'n doth o'erpow'r the pains of death, All these who are on Earth distress'd,
And call me home again to loathed life: Because they have Christ's name profess'd. Thus doth mine evil transcend both life and death,
While no death is so bad as is my life, These stones the workmen dress and beat,
Nor Ro life such which doth not end by death, Before they throughly polish'd are;
And Protean changes turn my death and life : Then each is in his proper seat
O happy those who in their birth find death,
Sith but to languish Heaven affordeth life,
To God, who sits in highest seat,
Glory and power given be;
Who reign in equal dignity;
I CURSE the night, yet do from day me hide,