When the tapers now burne blew,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more then true;
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the Prieft his last hath praid,
And I nod to what is faid,

'Cause my speech is now decaid;

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knowes, I'm toft about,
Either with despaire, or doubt;

Yet before the glaffe be out,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the Tempter me purfu'th
With the fins of all my youth,

And halfe damns me with untruth;
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries

Fright mine eares, and fright mine eyes, And all terrors me furprize;

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the Judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was feal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd;

Sweet Spirit, comfort me;

Τ

Thanksgiving.

Hanksgiving for a former, doth invite
God to bestow a second benefit.

Cock-crow.

B

Ell-man of Night, if I about shall

go

For to denie my Master, do thou crow.
Thou ftop'ft S. Peter in the midst of fin;
Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin;
Better it is, premonish'd, for to shun
A fin, then fall to weeping when 'tis done.

All things run well for the Righteous.

A

Dverse and profperous Fortunes both work

on

Here, for the righteous mans falvation :
Be he oppos'd, or be he not withstood,
All ferve to th' Augmentation of his good.

Paine ends in Pleafure.

Ffictions bring us joy in times to come, When fins, by ftripes, to us grow wearifome.

To God.

I'Le come, I'le creep, though Thou doft threat,
Humbly unto Thy Mercy-feat:

When I am there, this then I'le do,
Give Thee a Dart, and Dagger too;
Next, when I have my faults confeft,
Naked I'le fhew a fighing breft;
Which if that can't Thy pittie wooe,
Then let Thy Justice do the rest,

And ftrike it through.

A Thanksgiving to God, for his House.

Lord, Thou haft given me a cell

Wherein to dwell;

A little house, whose humble Roof

Is weather-proof;

Under the sparres of which I lie

Both foft, and drie ;

Where Thou my chamber for to ward

Haft fet a Guard

Of harmleffe thoughts, to watch and keep
Me, while I fleep.

Low is my porch, as is my Fate,

Both void of state;

And yet the threshold of my doore

Is worn by th' poore,

Who thither come, and freely get

Good words, or meat :

Like as my Parlour, fo my Hall

And Kitchin's small :

A little Butterie, and therein

A little Byn,

Which keeps my little loafe of Bread
Unchipt, unflead:

Some brittle sticks of Thorne or Briar
Make me a fire,

Close by whose living coale I fit,
And glow like it.

Lord, I confeffe too, when I dine,

The Pulfe is Thine,

And all thofe other Bits, that bee

There plac'd by Thee;

The Worts, the Purflain, and the Meffe
Of Water-creffe,

Which of Thy kindnesse Thou hast sent;
And my content

Makes those, and my beloved Beet,

To be more sweet.

'Tis thou that crown'ft my glittering Hearth With guiltleffe mirth;

And giv'ft me Waffaile Bowles to drink,
Spic'd to the brink.

Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand,

That foiles my land;

And giv❜ft me, for my Bushell fowne,

Twice ten for one :

Thou mak'st my teeming Hen to lay
Her egg each day:

Befides my healthfull Ewes to beare

Me twins each yeare:

The while the conduits of my Kine

Run Creame, for Wine.

All these, and better Thou doft send
Me, to this end,

That I should render, for my part,

A thankfull heart;

Which, fir'd with incenfe, I refigne,

As wholly Thine;

But the acceptance, that must be,

ΜΑ

My Christ, by Thee.

To God.

Ake, make me Thine, my gracious God,
Or with thy staffe, or with thy rod;

And be the blow too what it will,
Lord, I will kiffe it, though it kill :
Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me,
Yet, in torments, I'le commend Thee:
Examine me with fire, and prove me
To the full, yet I will love Thee:
Nor fhalt thou give fo deep a wound,
But I as patient will be found.