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The Church.
But as cold hands are angrie with the fire,
And mend it still;
So I do lay the want of my desire,
Not on my sinnes, or coldnesse, but thy will.
And mend it still;
So I do lay the want of my desire,
Not on my sinnes, or coldnesse, but thy will.
Yet heare, O God, onely for his blouds sake
Which pleads for me:
For though sinnes plead too, yet like stones they make
His blouds sweet current much more loud to be.
Which pleads for me:
For though sinnes plead too, yet like stones they make
His blouds sweet current much more loud to be.
¶ The Church-floore.
MArk you the floore? that square & speckled stone,
Which looks so firm and strong,
Is Patience:
Which looks so firm and strong,
Is Patience:
And th'other black and grave, wherewith each one
Is checker'd all along,
Humilitie:
Is checker'd all along,
Humilitie:
The gentle rising, which on either hand
Leads to the Quire above,
Is Confidence:
Leads to the Quire above,
Is Confidence:
But the sweet cement, which in one sure band
Ties the whole frame, is Love
And Charitie.
Ties the whole frame, is Love
And Charitie.
Hither sometimes Sinne steals, and stains
The marbles neat and curious veins:
But all is cleansed when the marble weeps.
Sometimes Death, puffing at the doore,
Blows all the dust about the floore:
But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps.
Blest be the Architect, whose art
Could build so strong in a weak heart.
The marbles neat and curious veins:
But all is cleansed when the marble weeps.
Sometimes Death, puffing at the doore,
Blows all the dust about the floore:
But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps.
Blest be the Architect, whose art
Could build so strong in a weak heart.
¶ The
