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O every living worldly wight,

Awake and dress yourself with speed,
To serve and praise the God of might,

From whom all bounty does proceed :
For if ye drift and still refuse,
The heaven and earth will you accuse.
The brutal beasts without all strife

They willingly his voice obey;
The creatures that have no life
Set forth his glory day by day ;

10 The earth, the air, the sea, and fire Are subject all to his empire. The heaven it is his dwelling place,

The earth his little footstool low;
His works are all before his face,

Of hearts the secrets He does know;
And every thing as in a glass
He sees before it come to pass.
The swift and active fiery sprights,

The Cherubins of substance pure,
They walk among the holy streits,

And make him daily service sure;
Yea at all times they ready stand
To go and come at his command.
His holy purpose to fulfil,

And potent power to declare,
The massive earth reposes still,

Suspended in the cessile air ; And at her due appointed hours Brings forth most pleasant fruits and flowers. 30 What thing is fiercer than the sea?

More raging than the awful deep?
Which back retired at his decree,

And doth her bounds and marches keep,
Syne at his charge apart stood by,
To make his host a passage dry.

The mighty winds blow to and fro

From every airth by day and night ;
We hear them thudding by us go,

Yet not conceive them with our sight :
But in a clap the Lord to please
Their blasts they quietly appease.


Like flocks of fowls the clouds above

Forth fly and cover all the sky;
Again they suddenly remove,

We wot not where, nor reason why :
But to obey his holy law
They pour out rain, sharp hail, and snaw.

He made the sun, a lamp of light,

A well of heat, to shine by day;
He made the moon to guide the night,

And set the stars in good array;
Orion, Pleiads, and the Urse
Obey their due prescribed course.

O poets, pagans impudent,

Why worship ye the planets seven ?
The glore of God by you is spent

On idols and the host of heaven :
Ye pride your pens men's ears to please
With fables and fictitious leis.

He is above Mercurius,
Above Neptunus on the sea,

The winds they know not Æolus,

There is no Jupiter but He ;
And all your gods, both great and small,
Are of no force, for He is all.

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But, sons of light, ye know the truth ;

Extol the Lord with heart and mind;
Remove all stays and sluggish sloth ;
Obey his voice, for He is kind ;

That heaven and earth may witness bear
Ye love that God which bought you dear.

Alexander Hume.

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OF MY DEAR SON GERVASE BEAUMONT. Can I, who have for others oft compiled The songs of death, forget my sweetest child, Which, like the flower crusht, with a blast is dead, And ere full time hangs down his smiling head, Expecting with clear hope to live anew, Among the angels fed with heavenly dew ? We have this sign of joy, that many days, While on the earth his struggling spirit stays, The name of Jesus in his mouth contains His only food, his sleep, his ease from pains. Oh! may that sound be rooted in my mind, Of which in him such strong effect I find. Dear Lord, receive my son, whose winning love To me was like a friendship, far above The course of nature, or his tender age; . 15 Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage ; Let his pure soul, ordained seven years to be In that frail body, which was part of me, Remain my pledge in heaven, as sent to show, How to this port at every step. I go.

20 Sir John Beaumont.

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Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages :
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ;
Care no more to clothe and eat ;
To thee the reed is as the oak :

The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash ;

Thou hast finished joy and moan :
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee !
Quiet consummation have
And renowned be thy grave !

William Shakespeare.


Mortality behold and fear !
What a change of flesh is here !
Think how many royal bones
Sleep within these heaps of stones ;

20 10

Here they lie, had realms and lands,
Who now want strength to stir their hands,
Where from their pulpits sealed with dust
They preach, 'In greatness is no trust.'
Here's an acre sown indeed
With the richest royallest seed
That the earth did e'er suck in,
Since the first man died for sin :
Here the bones of birth have cried,
'Though gods they were, as men they died !!
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruined sides of kings:
Here's a world of pomp and state
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.

Francis Beaumont.


Victorious men of earth, no more

Proclaim how wide your empires are;
Though you bind-in every shore
And your triumphs reach as far

As night or day,
Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey,
And mingle with forgotten ashes, when
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.


Devouring Famine, Plague, and War,

Each able to undo mankind,
Death's servile emissaries are ;
Nor to these alone confined,

He hath at will
More quaint and subtle ways to kill ;
A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,

15 Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.

James Shirley.

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