The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/Gratefulnesse
¶ Gratefulnesse.
THou that hast giv'n so much to me,Give one thing more, a gratefull heart.See how thy beggar works on theeBy art.
He makes thy gifts occasion more,And sayes, If he in this be crost,All thou hast giv'n him heretoforeIs lost.
But thou didst reckon, when at firstThy word our hearts and hands did crave,What it would come to at the worstTo save:
Perpetuall knockings at thy doore,Tears sullying thy transparent rooms,Gift upon gift, much would have more,And comes.
This notwithstanding, thou wentst on,And didst allow us all our noise:Nay, thou hast made a sigh and groneThy joyes.
Not that thou hast not still aboveMuch better tunes, then grones can make;But that these countrey-aires thy loveDid take.
Wherefore I crie, and crie again;And in no quiet canst thou be,Till I a thankfull heart obtainOf thee:
Not thankfull, when it pleaseth me;As if thy blessings had spare-dayes:But such a heart, whose pulse may beThy praise.