The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/The Priesthood
¶ The Priesthood.
Blest Order, which in power dost so excell,That with th'one hand thou liftest to the skie,And with the other throwest down to hellIn thy just censures; fain would I draw nigh,Fain put thee on, exchanging my lay-swordFor that of th'holy word.
But thou art fire, sacred and hallow'd fire;And I but earth and clay: should I presumeTo wear thy habit, the severe attireMy slender compositions might consume.I am both foul and brittle; much unfitTo deal in holy Writ.
Yet have I often seen, by cunning handAnd force of fire, what curious things are madeOf wretched earth. Where once I scorn'd to stand,That earth is fitted by the fire and tradeOf skilfull artists, for the boards of thoseWho make the bravest shows.
But since those great ones, be they ne're so great,Come from the earth, from whence those vessels come;So that at once both feeder, dish, and meatHave one beginning and one finall summe:I do not greatly wonder at the sight,If earth in earth delight.
But th' holy men of God such vessels are,As serve him up, who all the world commands:When God vouchsafeth to become our fare,Their hands convey him, who conveys their hands.O what pure things, most pure must those things be,Who bring my God to me!
Wherefore I dare not, I, put forth my handTo hold the Ark, although it seem to shakeThrough th' old sinnes and new doctrines of our land.Onely, since God doth often vessels makeOf lowly matter for high uses meet,I throw me at his feet.
There will I lie, untill my Maker seekFor some mean stuffe whereon to show his skill:Then is my time. The distance of the meekDoth flatter power. Lest good come short of illIn praising might, the poore do by submissionWhat pride by opposition.