The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/The Invitation
For works with similar titles, see The Invitation.
¶ The Invitation.
Come ye hither all, whose tasteIs your waste;Save your cost, and mend your fare.God is here prepar'd and drest,And the feast,God, in whom all dainties are.
Come ye hither all, whom wineDoth define,Naming you not to your good:Weep what ye have drunk amisse,And drink this,Which before ye drink is bloud.
Come ye hither all, whom painDoth arraigne,Bringing all your sinnes to sight:Taste and fear not: God is hereIn this cheer,And on sinne doth cast the fright.
Come ye hither all, whom joyDoth destroy,While ye graze without your bounds:Here is joy that drowneth quiteYour delight,As a floud the lower grounds.
Come ye hither all, whose loveIs your dove,And exalts you to the skie:Here is love, which having breathEv'n in death,After death can never die.
Lord, I have invited all,And I shallStill invite, still call to thee:For it seems but just and rightIn my sight,Where is all, there all should be.