The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/The Temper (II)
For works with similar titles, see The Temper.
¶ The Temper.
IT cannot be. Where is that mightie joy, Which just now took up all my heart? Lord, if thou must needs use thy dart,Save that, and me; or sin for both destroy.
The grosser world stands to thy word and art; But thy diviner world of grace Thou suddenly dost raise and race,And ev'ry day a new Creatour art.
O fix thy chair of grace, that all my powers May also fix their reverence: For when thou dost depart from hence,They grow unruly, and sit in thy bowers.
Scatter, or binde them all to bend to thee: Though elements change, and heaven move, Let not thy higher Court remove,But keep a standing Majestie in me.