LORD, what am I? A worm, dust, vapour, nothing!
What is my life? A dream, a daily dying!
What is my flesh? My soul's uneasy clothing!
What is my time? A minute ever flying!
My time, my flesh, my life, and I;
What are we, Lord, but vanity?
Down in a vale of death: What is my trade? Sin, my dear God offending; My sport, sin too; my stay, a puff of breath : What end of sin? Hell's horror, never ending: My way, my trade, sport, stay, and place, Help to make up my doleful case.
Lord, what art thou? Pure life, power, beauty, bliss:
Where dwell'st thou? Up above, in perfect light:
What is thy time? Eternity it is:
What state? Attendance of each glorious spright:
Thyself, thy place, thy days, thy state,
Pass all the thoughts of powers create.
How shall I reach thee, Lord? Oh, soar above,
Ambitious soul: But which way should I fly?
Thou, Lord, art way and end: what wings have I?
Aspiring thoughts, of faith, of hope, of love:
Oh, let these wings, that way alone,
Present me to thy blissful throne.
IMMORTAL babe, who this dear day
Didst change thy Heaven for our clay,
And didst with flesh thy Godhead vail,
Eternal Son of God, all hail!
Shine, happy Star, ye Angels, sing
Glory on high to Heaven's King:
Run, Shepherds, leave your nightly watch,
See Heaven come down to Bethlehem's cratch.
Worship, ye Sages of the East,
The King of Gods in meanness drest.
O Blessed Maid, smile and adore
The God, thy womb and arms have bore.
Star, Angels, Shepherds, and wise Sages;
Thou Virgin, glory of all ages;
Restored frame of Heaven and Earth;
Joy in your dear Redeemer's birth!
LEAVE, O my soul, this baser world below,
Oh, leave this doleful dungeon of woe;
And soar aloft to that supernal rest,
That maketh all the Saints and Angels blest:
Lo, there the Godhead's radiant throne,
Like to ten thousand suns in one!
Lo, there thy Saviour dear, in glory dight,
Ador'd of all the powers of Heavens bright:
Lo, where that head, that bled with thorny wound,
Shines ever with celestial honour crown'd:
That hand, that held the scornful reed,
Makes all the fiends infernal dread:
That back and side, that ran with bloody streams,
Daunt angels' eyes with their majestic beams:
Those feet, once fastened to the cursed tree,
Trample on death and hell, in glorious glee:
Those lips, once drench't with gall, do make
With their dread doom the world to quake.
Behold those joys thou never canst behold;
Those precious gates of pearl, those streets of gold,
Those streams of life, those trees of Paradise,
That never can be seen by mortal eyes:
And, when thou seest this state divine,
Think that it is or shall be thine.
See there the happy troops of purest sprights,
That live above in endless true delights;
And see where once thyself shalt ranged be,
And look and long for immortality:
And now, beforehand, help to sing
Hallelujahs to Heaven's King.
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