DAUID did mercy craue, and nothing more,
In all his troubles and aduersities;
'Cause mercy paies sins' debt, and cleares the score, Leauing no sign of our iniquities,
To feare our soules or to offend our eyes.
Wherefore, with him, I will for mercy craue,
That of my sins I may remission haue.
Mercy's the sum and substance of my sute;
Mercy's the marke at which I aime by prayer;
Mercy's soule's manna, heauen's sacred fruit;
Mercy's the idea of the onely faire;
Mercy's God's seat, his hie and only chaire ;
Mercy's the loadstone, that to life doth drawe;
Mercy's the gospell, that fulfills the lawe.
Mercy's the obiect of the angells' loue;
Mercy's the arke doth in sin's deluge saue;
Mercy's the martir's oliue-bringing doue;
Mercy's the means that men saluation haue;
Mercy's the most good that a man can craue;
Mercy's the salue that cures sin's vgly sores;
Mercy's the porter of heauen's pretious dores.
Mercy mou'd Christ to come, and die for men;
Mercy moues man to deeds of charitie;
Mercy may saue me, sinfull publican;
Mercy the saints pray for continually ;
Mercy doth pardon man's iniquitie;
Mercy's most royall, bred and borne in heauen;
Mercy's God's gift, the best that ere was giuen.
Nonne subiecta erit anima mea Deo.
O My deare-bought soule, to thy God Creator
No rebell be thou; for, alas, too feeble
Is thy fraile temper set against his wil's force.
Thunder obeyes him.
Humble vnto his pleasure all thy spirits;
Wings are weak organs to auoid his eye-sight-
Earth, sea, and heauen's selfe are within that orbe's
Downe, high heart-downe then, whether shall he
And see thou welcome what hee throwes vpon thee; Hang on his precepts, liue a life well order'd,
And fly no thunder. Here's thy clay-frame,-God, doe with it thy plea
Here's thine owne semblant by my sinnes abused; Here's thy deare Sonne's price: O, be good, my soule cryes,
And be thou gracious. Downe, high heart-downe then, whether shall he
And see thou welcome what hee throwes vpon thee;
Hang on his precepts, liue a life well order'd,
And fly no thunder.
O, my deare-bought soule, to thy God Redeemer
Simply be subiect; for, alas, without him
Dwels nothing hopeful: then, O soule, to him still Simply be subiect.
WITH prouidence reflect thy looke
Into thy liue's accounting booke;
And thou shalt see how time destroyes
Thy youth, thy friends, thy foolish ioyes:
Which pleasures, mocking all desires,
Shew them but seruants vnto liers.
And looke on this with eies of minde,
With which men see when they are blinde.
None euer had such ioy a day,
That from them did not slide away;
For that soone turneth into was1
Which sprung of late as tender grasse.
With ioy let none himselfe deceiue,
For euery lust will take his leaue.
Rich miserie is great men's share,
Pompous distresse and glittering care,
With which they toile as troubles lent,
Till death exact of them their rent.
Still in thy pleasure beare in minde
That sorrow is not far behinde.
Rivers present our image plaine,
Which passing neuer turne againe.
Such is this world when it is best,
That each degree finds little rest:
He that is highest in his pride,
His fortune changeth as the tide.
All signifies a fading flower,
Rust, time, and wormes, will all devoure.
Life, ioy, and euery pleasant weede,
Scarce hangeth by a slender threede.
To all, this period fate doth doome,
That all must vnto nothing come.
As child in nurse's arms, by Death
Included, here we draw our breath,
Where all our solace is vnstable,
Our death vnknown, ineuitable:
Which none by strength alleuiate may,
Riches, or birth, or other way;
And earth is promiser of rest,
Which is not as it seem'd possesst.
None have contentment at their call,
And smalest sweet abounds in gall.
When we think surest for to stand,
Then greatest slidings are at hand :
One danger seldome comes alone,
But moe proceed ere that be gone.
The castels which repulse a foe
Cannot demand a man from woe;
Wherefore old Solon did commend
To call none happy till their end;
And Dyon gaue this sentence rare,
"The shorter life, the lesser care."
From birth to prison we ascend
On earth, as stage to take our end.
And here a life enui'd we haue,
And no true rest vntill our graue.
Wherefore, fooles' heauen, but wise men's hell, Vaine earth, I bid thy ioyes farewell.
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