The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/The Dawning
¶ The Dawning.
AWake sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns;Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth;Unfold thy forehead gather’d into frowns:Thy Saviour comes, and with him mirth:Awake, awake;And with a thankfull heart his comforts take.But thou dost still lament, and pine, and crie;And feel his death, but not his victorie.
Arise sad heart; if thou dost not withstand,Christs resurrection thine may be:Do not by hanging down break from the hand,Which as it riseth, raiseth thee:Arise, Arise;And with his buriall-linen drie thine eyes:Christ left his grave-clothes, that we might, when griefDraws tears, or bloud, not want an handkerchief.