What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
bear better blessed bloud brave breast breath bring canst Christ Church dead deare death delight doore doth Drop dust eares earth Ev'n ev'ry ev’n eyes face fair fall fear finde fire flesh flowers fruit gain gave give glorie grace grief ground grow hand hath head heare heart heav'n hold holy hope houre joyes keep King leave lesse light live look Lord lost measure minde move musick never night once passe peace pleasure poore praise present rest rise seek serve shine sigh sing sinne sometimes sorrow soul spring stand starres stay stone sunne sure sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou didst thou dost thou hast thoughts tree true turn unto weep Wherefore whole wilt winde write
Page 195 - Not so, my heart! But there is fruit, And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures. Leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not.
Page 235 - TEACH me, my God and King, In all things thee to see, And what I do in any thing, To do it as for thee...
Page 55 - Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town, Thou didst betray me to a ling'ring book And wrap me in a gown.
Page 94 - Whom, if we were not very dull, We could not choose but look on still, Since there is no place so alone, The which he doth not fill.
Page 229 - I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace.
Page 211 - THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are Thy returns ! e'en as the flowers in spring , To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing.
Page 110 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Page 186 - KING of glory, King of peace, , I will love Thee ; And, that love may never cease, I will move Thee. Thou hast granted my request, Thou hast heard me : Thou didst note my working breast, Thou hast spared me. Wherefore with my utmost art I will sing Thee, And the cream of all my heart I will bring Thee.