On the Purification of the Blessed Virgin. PURE and spotless was the maid, A pair of turtle doves she paid, Although she brought the Lamb. To be purify'd, And try'd, That she was spotless and obedient. O make us follow so bless'd precedent, And a continued state of sin Hath sullied all our faculties within. And, for redemption, a Lamb The purest, whitest, that e'er came Even him that bled upon the tree. On Good Friday. THE Lamb is eaten, and is yet again The cup is full and mix'd, And must be drunk: Wormwood and gall To this, are draughts to beguile care withal, Doubled knees, and groans, and cries, His sad soul sunk Under the heavy pressure of our sin : His Father's burning wrath did make Through the pure strainer of his skin: As if the wretched whole were but one door And turn out all relief. O Thou, who for our sake Didst drink up This bitter cup, Remember us, we pray. When down The struggling throats of wicked men Let thy unbounded mercy think On us, for whom Thou underwent'st this heavy doom, And give us of the well of life to drink. Amen. On the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin. A WINGED harbinger, from bright heav'n flown, For the mighty King of love, The spotless structure of a virgin womb, O'ershadow'd with the wings of the blest dove: For he was travelling to earth, But did desire to lay By the way, That he might shift his clothes, and be A perfect man as well as we. How good a God have we, who, for our sake, Man like himself in his own image; now Eternity took the measure of a span, And said, "Let us like ourselves make man, And not from man the woman take, Allelujah! We adore His name, whose goodness hath no store. Allelujah! Easter Day. WHAT glorious light! How bright a sun, after so sad a night, This sun, when he did first unfold That saw the first ray: Saint Peter and the other had the reflex, The second glimpse o' th' day. Innocence had the first, and he That fled, and then did penance, next did see Of triumph, immortality, and bliss. Or, if we do amiss, Make us to rise again to th' life of grace, That we may live with thee, and see thy glorious face, The crown of holy penitence. Allelujah! On the Day of Ascension. He is risen higher, not set: Did, with his leave, make bold to shroud The Sun of Glory from Mount Olivet. Amen. On the Feast of Pentecost, or Whitsunday. TONGUES of fire from heaven descend A living fire Of heav'nly charity, and pure desire, On the apostles' sacred heads they sit; And give men warning to defend And all her gifts and graces, slide That thus refined, we may soar above Even unto thee, dear Spirit, And there eternal peace and rest inherit. Amen. Penitential Hymns. I. LORD, I have sinned: and the black number swells That, should my stony heart, and eyes, But thou, my God, hast blood in store, And art the Patron of the poor. Yet since the balsam of thy blood, Although it can, will do no good, Unless the wounds be cleans'd with tears before; Teach but my heart and eyes To melt away, And then one drop of balsam will suffice. Amen. II. GREAT God, and just! how canst thou see, And not, in mercy, set us free! Poor miserable man! how wert thou born Who, like court-flatterers, wait To serve themselves in thy unhappy fate. |