God is essential love,
And all the saints above,
Are like unto him made,

Each in his measure :
Love is their life and trade,

Their constant pleasure.

Love flames in every breast,
The greatest and the least;
Strangers to this sweet life,

There are not any.
Love leaves no place for strife;

Makes one of many.

Each is to other dear,
No malice enters there;
No siding difference;

No hurt, no evil;
Because no ignorance,

No sin, no devil.

What joy must there needs be,
Where all God's glory see;
Feeling God's vital love,

Which still is burning :
And flaming God ward move,

Full love returning.

Self makes contention here, Love makes all common there, There's no propriety,

Mine is my brother's. Perfect community

Makes one's another's.

Go out then, ling’ring soul,
From this vile serpent's hole;
Where bred as in a sink,

They hiss and sting us.
Will not Christ, dost thou think,

To better bring us?

Think not that Heav'n wants store,
Think not that Hell hath more,
If all on Earth were lost :

Earth's scarce one tittle
To the vast Heavens: at most,

Exceeding little.

All those blest myriads be,
Lovers of Christ and thee;
Angels thy presence wish,

Christ will receive thee :
Then let not brutish flesh,

Fright and deceive thee.

Gladly my soul go forth;
Is Heaven of no more worth,
Than this curst desert is,

This world of trouble?
Prefer eternal bliss,

Before this bubble.

Wish not still for delay.
Why wouldst thou longer stay
From Christ, from hope so far,

la self-denial;
And live in longer war,

A life of trial ?

Death. Thy merry days are gone;
Thou shalt no longer stay:

Thy life shall end in pain :
Thy time and work is done,
And all thy sport and play;

And never shall come again.
Here take thy leave of health,
And of thy goods and wealth;

And of every pleasant friend :
Bid farewell to them all,
For here thy corse shall fall;

And the world to thee shall end. Believer. Boast not, О conquer'd foe! For thou could'st have no strength,

But what comes from my sin :
My Lord will overthrow
Thy power at the length;

And will thy prisoners win:
Thou couldst not keep my head,
When he lay in thy bed;

But he rose, and now doth reign :
He'll take away thy sting,
And endless life will bring,

And with him shall I remain.
How oft have I undress'd me,
And laid my garments by,

And died till the next day!
I do but go to rest me,
And shall rise speedily;

My Lord will not delay.
When thou bast broke this shell,
My soul with Christ shall dwell,

And with saints and angels bright.
This world is but the womb
From which my soul must come

Into the eternal light.

And what though death be painful ? The pain is quickly past !

My soul shall soon be freed : My Lord shall make it gainful: The gain shall ever last;

And joy shall grief succeed. And though the place seem strange, And nature fear a change ;

Yet I with Christ shall be.
And when with him I dwell,
I know I shall be well,

And his glorious light shall see.
Thou shalt but kill my sin,
And crown my painful race,

And end my grief and fear :
Thou shalt but let me in
To see the blessed face

Of my Redeemer dear.
And is it any loss
To follow with my cross,

Till I attain the crown?
It's he that truly dies,
That mercy doth despise,

And at last God will disown.
I knew that from my birth
I was a mortal man :

My frailty is confess'd.
I knew my flesh was earth;
My life was but a span.

And here is not my reste If thou canst say no more, All this I knew before,

And yet thy threats defy. Have I long sought in pain, And would I not obtain,

Joyful eternity?

O feeble thing!
How canst thou conquer Christ,

And make his promise void?
First overcome my King,
And his command resist,

By whom thou art employ'd :
First win the world above,
And conquer endless love;

And then I'll be thy slave :
Kill an immortal soul,
And we will all condole,

And fear a darksome grave.
It's Christ that doth thee send,
To bring about his end;

And him thou must obey :
He is my dearest friend,
And doth no harm intend

In calling me away.
And why should he fear ill,
Whom love itself doth kill ?

And numb’reth with the blest?
Why should not Death fulfil
His good all-ruling will,-

My spring, my guide, my rest?

A DIRGE.

[CROLY.] • EARTH to earth, and dust to dust!' Here the evil and the just, Here the youthful and the old, Here the fearful and the bold,