Who hath his life from rumours freed, Who envies none whom chance doth raise, How deepest wounds are given with praise, Who God doth late and early pray More of His grace than gifts to lend ; And entertains the harmless day With a well-chosen book or friend ; This man is freed from servile bands SIR HENRY WOTTON. PEACE. WEET Peace! where dost thou dwell, I humbly crave? Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And ask'd if Peace were there? The hollow wind did seem to answer "No! So went I to a garden, and did spy The Crown Imperial-" Sure," said I, But when I dug, I saw a worm devour At length I met a reverend, good old man, I did demand, he thus began: "There was a Prince of old In Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase "He sweetly lived, but sweetness could not save His life from foes: But, after death, out of His grave There sprung twelve stalks of wheat; Which many, wondering at, got some of those "It prosper'd strangely; and did soon disperse Through all the earth: For they that taste it do rehearse That virtue lies therein A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth, "Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, And grows for you; Make bread of it; and that repose And peace which everywhere, With so much earnestness, you do pursue, Is only there." GEORGE HERBERT. PRAYER. INK'ST thou in want, and is thy small cruse spent? Seek Him in want, enjoy Him in content. In prayer and patience find Him out again. Shall find Him out, where heaven alone shall know. Feather'd with faith, and double-fork'd with fire, come, Heaven's never deaf but when man's heart is dumb. FRANCIS QUARLES. I ASPIRATIONS AFTER GOD. VEN so my weary soul, that long has been An inmate in this tenement of sin, Lock'd up by cloud-brow'd error, which My cloister'd thoughts to feed on black delights, |