Then should thy praises with me grow,
And share in my degree.

But when I thus dispute and grieve,
I do resume my sight;

And pilfring what I once did give,
Disseize thee of thy right.

How know I, if thou shouldst me raise,
That I should then raise thee?
Perhaps great places and thy praise
Do not so well agree.

Wherefore unto my gift I stand;
I will no more advise :

Onely do thou lend me a hand,

Since thou hast both mine eyes.

71. JUSTICE.

I CANNOT Skill of these thy ways:

Lord, thou didst make me, yet thou woundest me: Lord, thou dost wound me, yet thou dost relieve me:

Lord, thou relievest, yet I die by thee:

Lord, thou dost kill me, yet thou dost reprieve me.

But when I mark my life and praise,
Thy justice me most fitly payes:

For, I do praise thee, yet I praise thee not:
My prayers mean thee, yet my prayers stray :
I would do well, yet sinne the hand hath got :
My soul doth love thee, yet it loves delay.
I cannot skill of these my ways.

72. CHARMS AND KNOTS.

WHO reade a chapter when they rise,
Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes.

A poore man's rod, when thou dost ride,
Is both a weapon and a guide.

Who shuts his hand, hath lost his gold:
Who opens it, hath it twice told.

Who goes to bed, and doth not pray,
Maketh two nights to ev'ry day.

Who by aspersions throw a stone
At th' head of others, hit their own.

Who looks on ground with humble eyes,
Findes himself there, and seeks to rise.

When th' hair is sweet through pride or lust,

The powder doth forget the dust.

Take one from ten, and what remains?

Ten still, if sermons go for gains.

In shallow waters heav'n doth show:
But who drinks on, to hell may go.

73. AFFLICTION.

My God, I read this day,

That planted Paradise was not so firm
As was and is thy floting Ark; whose stay

And anchor thou art onely, to confirm
And strengthen it in ev'ry age,

When waves do rise, and tempests rage.

At first we liv'd in pleasure;

Thine own delights thou didst to us impart :
When we grew wanton, thou didst use displeasure
To make us thine: yet that we might not part,
As we at first did board with thee,

Now thou wouldst taste our miserie.

There is but joy and grief;

If either will convert us, we are thine:
Some Angels us'd the first; if our relief
Take up the second, then thy double line
And sev'rall baits in either kinde

Furnish thy table to thy minde.

Affliction then is ours;

We are the trees, whom shaking fastens more, While blustring windes destroy the wanton bowres, And ruffle all their curious knots and store.

My God, so temper joy and wo,

That thy bright beams may tame thy bow.

74. MORTIFICATION.

How soon doth man decay!

When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets

To swaddle infants, whose young breath
Scarce knows the way;

Those clouts are little winding sheets,

Which do consigne and send them unto death.