Solus in toto laudandus Deus
Oh blessed Loue, the life of blessednesse,
If euer Thou diddest helpe a sinner's heart
Behold my teares, and in Thy holynesse
Assist my spirit with Thy sacred art,
That al the world may ioy to heare me sing
The holy praises of my heauenly King.
Inspire me with that vnderstanding power,
Which may conceiue, and by desert commend
The toppe of truth on that triumphant tower
Where graces dwell, and glories neuer end;
Let some such angell help me in deuising,
As speakes of praise in glorie's euer rising.
Oh Loue, how gratious is that beautie held,
That giues the world but shadowes to behold!
But, Oh what glorie maist thou iustly yeeld
Vnto that life which doth thy life vnfold!
And while all shadowes fade and fall away
Is euer bright and neuer can decay!
In Nature's beautie, all the best can be
Are shadowing colours to deceiue the eye:
But in this beautie may our spirits see
A light wherein we liue, and cannot die;
A light whereby we see that most auailes vs
The comfort of our faith that neuer failes vs.
How bountifull is that faire hand accounted
That of his store a little stinte bestoweth!
But how in bountie hath that hand surmounted
That euer giuing, asking ouer-goeth!
And for no gift shall in true grace be scanting
Doth giue itselfe to see no comfort wanting.
How wise is he that teacheth how to wielde
The world at will, by wicked wits deuise!
But wiser much that findes that wit beguil'd
That neuer seeks the way to Paradise!
Oh blessed loue, none but thy Lord of light
Doth giue the soule that perfect heauenly light!
How kinde is he that doth his friend relieue
In time of need of worldly mindes reputed!
But he that helpes the heart that him doth grieue
To such a minde what praise may bee imputed!
How kinde is then our Christ let His death trie
Who hated sinne, yet did for sinners die!
How valiant is hee held that can subdue
By force of hand, the furie of his foe!
But in whose hand such valour euer grewe,
As gaue both death and hell their ouerthrow!
None but my Lord, my Loue, that God of light
Who makes all powers to tremble at His sight.
How patient is that poore conceit esteem'd,
That can put vp a wrong, or crosse, or two!
But how more patient may our Christ be deem'd,
That bare all wrongs that all the world could doe!
Oh peerlesse paterne of true Patience' power,
That conquer'd death in passion's dying houre!
How iust is he who as the law doth beare
The likeliest trueth his judgement doth pronounce!
But how more iuste whom neither Hope nor Feare
Could ever mooue to challenge or denounce!
Sweet Tesus Christ, who neuer Caesar wrongeth
And giues to God that vnto God belongeth.
How gracious is that creature to be thought
That doeth repent him of his wickednesse!
But how more gracious, in Whom God hath wrought
The perfect height of Grace's holinesse!
It is thy life, my loue, our Lord and God,
Who by His grace all sinne hath ouer-trod.
How comfortable is esteem'd that hand,
That heales the sick, although not neere to death!
But what more comfort in that power doeth stand.
Then to the dead can giue a liuing breath!
My loue thou knowest that Lazarus can tell,
When Marie's tears did please our Master well.
What should I in particulars proceed?
When all and summ that heauen and earth can show
Are short to finde how farre He doth exceede
The praise of prayse where highest prayses goe:
But worship Him in Whom all graces liue,
Worthy more glory then the world can giue.
And since my God and euerliuing Lord,
All in Himselfe all height of glory holdeth;
And to the faithfull onely doeth affoord,
No more to know, then Mercie's care vnfoldeth:
Let my soule's loue but humbly fall before Him
In admiration wholly to adore Him.
For Beauty, Bounty, Wisdome, Valour, Kindnesse,
Grace, Patience, Comfort, Iustice, Trueth, Perfection:
In Whome all these doe liue, what Reason's blindnesse
Can think to reach in Prayse's due perfection?
Where in the height to haue all glory sounded,
Both heau'ns and earth and angels are confounded!
And since farre more then most that can be thought
Liues in the light of His incomprehension:
Which neuer sense that euer proudly sought
But perisht in the instant of intention;
Let my soule sing when all hearts' strings are broken.
His praise is more then can in praise be spoken!
If euer Thou diddest helpe a sinner's heart
Behold my teares, and in Thy holynesse
Assist my spirit with Thy sacred art,
That al the world may ioy to heare me sing
The holy praises of my heauenly King.
Inspire me with that vnderstanding power,
Which may conceiue, and by desert commend
The toppe of truth on that triumphant tower
Where graces dwell, and glories neuer end;
Let some such angell help me in deuising,
As speakes of praise in glorie's euer rising.
Oh Loue, how gratious is that beautie held,
That giues the world but shadowes to behold!
But, Oh what glorie maist thou iustly yeeld
Vnto that life which doth thy life vnfold!
And while all shadowes fade and fall away
Is euer bright and neuer can decay!
In Nature's beautie, all the best can be
Are shadowing colours to deceiue the eye:
But in this beautie may our spirits see
A light wherein we liue, and cannot die;
A light whereby we see that most auailes vs
The comfort of our faith that neuer failes vs.
How bountifull is that faire hand accounted
That of his store a little stinte bestoweth!
But how in bountie hath that hand surmounted
That euer giuing, asking ouer-goeth!
And for no gift shall in true grace be scanting
Doth giue itselfe to see no comfort wanting.
How wise is he that teacheth how to wielde
The world at will, by wicked wits deuise!
But wiser much that findes that wit beguil'd
That neuer seeks the way to Paradise!
Oh blessed loue, none but thy Lord of light
Doth giue the soule that perfect heauenly light!
How kinde is he that doth his friend relieue
In time of need of worldly mindes reputed!
But he that helpes the heart that him doth grieue
To such a minde what praise may bee imputed!
How kinde is then our Christ let His death trie
Who hated sinne, yet did for sinners die!
How valiant is hee held that can subdue
By force of hand, the furie of his foe!
But in whose hand such valour euer grewe,
As gaue both death and hell their ouerthrow!
None but my Lord, my Loue, that God of light
Who makes all powers to tremble at His sight.
How patient is that poore conceit esteem'd,
That can put vp a wrong, or crosse, or two!
But how more patient may our Christ be deem'd,
That bare all wrongs that all the world could doe!
Oh peerlesse paterne of true Patience' power,
That conquer'd death in passion's dying houre!
How iust is he who as the law doth beare
The likeliest trueth his judgement doth pronounce!
But how more iuste whom neither Hope nor Feare
Could ever mooue to challenge or denounce!
Sweet Tesus Christ, who neuer Caesar wrongeth
And giues to God that vnto God belongeth.
How gracious is that creature to be thought
That doeth repent him of his wickednesse!
But how more gracious, in Whom God hath wrought
The perfect height of Grace's holinesse!
It is thy life, my loue, our Lord and God,
Who by His grace all sinne hath ouer-trod.
How comfortable is esteem'd that hand,
That heales the sick, although not neere to death!
But what more comfort in that power doeth stand.
Then to the dead can giue a liuing breath!
My loue thou knowest that Lazarus can tell,
When Marie's tears did please our Master well.
What should I in particulars proceed?
When all and summ that heauen and earth can show
Are short to finde how farre He doth exceede
The praise of prayse where highest prayses goe:
But worship Him in Whom all graces liue,
Worthy more glory then the world can giue.
And since my God and euerliuing Lord,
All in Himselfe all height of glory holdeth;
And to the faithfull onely doeth affoord,
No more to know, then Mercie's care vnfoldeth:
Let my soule's loue but humbly fall before Him
In admiration wholly to adore Him.
For Beauty, Bounty, Wisdome, Valour, Kindnesse,
Grace, Patience, Comfort, Iustice, Trueth, Perfection:
In Whome all these doe liue, what Reason's blindnesse
Can think to reach in Prayse's due perfection?
Where in the height to haue all glory sounded,
Both heau'ns and earth and angels are confounded!
And since farre more then most that can be thought
Liues in the light of His incomprehension:
Which neuer sense that euer proudly sought
But perisht in the instant of intention;
Let my soule sing when all hearts' strings are broken.
His praise is more then can in praise be spoken!
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