The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/Affliction (V)
For works with similar titles, see Affliction.
¶ Affliction.
MY God, I read this day,That planted Paradise was not so firm,As was and is thy floting Ark; whose stayAnd anchor thou art onely, to confirmAnd 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 displeasureTo 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 reliefTake up the second, then thy double lineAnd sev'rall baits in either kindeFurnish 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.