Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.
Stanzas from “The Passions of the Spirit”LXIII. Anonymous
C
And call your wits together;
Borrow some pennes
Out of the angells’ wings;
Intreat the heauens
To send their muses hether,
To help your soules
To write of sacred things.
Prophane conceits
Must all bee cast away:
The night is past,
And you must take the day.
It beareth no part heere;
But write of grace
And whence hir glory grue.
Think of the loue
That to the life is deere,
And of the life
To whom all loue is due:
And then sit downe
In glory all to sing,
All to the glory
Of our glorious King.
Of faithful holinesse;
Then your deuisions
Of deuine desires:
Let all your rests
Bee hopes of happinesse,
Which mercies musicke
In the soule requires:
Let all your sharps
Bee feares of faithfull harts;
And all your flats
The death of your desarts.
As hope and feare directs
The nature of each note
In space or line:
And let your voices
Carry such effects,
As may approue
Your passions are deuine.
Then let your consorts
All in one agree,
To God alone
All onely glory bee.
Bee the deerest thought,
That may reuiue
The dying hart of loue;
That onely mercy
On the soule hath wrought
The happie comfort
Of the heauens to moue:
Then let your sound
Unto the heauens ascend,
And all your closes
All in glory end.
That sitteth on the throne,
With all the hoast
Of all the heauens attended;
Who all things made,
And governes all alone,
Vanquisht his foes,
And all his flock defended;
And by his power
His chosen soules preserueth
To sing his praise,
That so all praise deserueth.
Are to him glory singing,
Let mee, poore wretch,
Not wholly hold my peace;
But let my teares,
From mercie glory springing,
Keepe time to that sweet song:
May they neuer seace,
That while my soule
Doth my God adore,
I may yet sing Amen,
Although no more.