 Part 1 of A Selection of Divine Palms by John Dunne This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com A Selection of Divine Palms by John Dunne Part 1 Holly Summits The Cycle of the Crown But Corona Dine at my hands this crown of prayer and praise Weaved in my load of outmellon collie That which have good haste, Ye art treasury, All changing, unchanged, ancient of days But do not with a vile crown of frail bays Reward my muses white sincerity But what thy thorny crown gained That give me a crown of glory Which doth flower all ways The ends crown our works, But thou crownst our ends For at our end begins our endless rest The first last end now zealously possessed For the strong so the thirst my soul attends Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high Salvation to all that will is nigh Annunciation Salvation to all that will is nigh That all which always is all everywhere Which cannot sin and yet all sins must bear Which cannot die yet cannot choose but die Low faithful virgin yields himself to lie In prison in thy womb And though he there can take no sin Nor thou give yet he will wear Taken from thence flesh Which death's force may try Hereby the sphere's time was created Thou wast in his mind Who is thy son and brother And thou conceivest conceived, Ye thou art now Thy maker's maker and thy father's mother Thou hast light in dark And shuts in little ruin Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb Nativity Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb Now leaves his world beloved in prisonment There he hath made himself to his intent Weak enough, now into our world to come But oh, for thee for him hath thee in no room Yet lay him in this stall And from the Orient Stars and wise men will travel To prevent the effect of Herod's jealous general doom Ceased thou, my soul, with thy faith's eyes How he which fills all place Yet none holds him doth lie Was not his pity Towards the wondrous high That would have need To be pitied by thee Kiss him and with him into Egypt go With his kind mother Who partakes thy woe Temple, with his kind mother Who partakes thy woe Joseph, turn back, see where your child Doth sit Blowing, yea, blowing out those sparks of wit Which himself on the doctors did bestow The word but lately could not speak and blow It suddenly speaks wonders whence comes it That all which was and all which should be writ A shallow-seeming child should deeply know His Godhead was not soul to his manhood Nor had time mellowed him to this ripeness But as for one which hath a long task to his good With the sun to begin his business He in his ages morning thus began By miracles exceeding power of man Crucifying By miracles exceeding power of man He faith in some, envy in some begat For what weak spirits admire ambitious hate In both affections many to him ran But oh, the worst are most, they will and can Alas and do unto the immaculate Whose creature fate is now proscribe of fate Measuring self-lives infinity to a span Nay, to an inch low where condemned He bears his own cross with pain yet By and by when it bears him He must bear more and die Now thou art lifted up, draw me to thee And at thy death giving such liberal dull Moist with one drop of thy blood, my dry soul Resurrection Moist with one drop of thy blood, my dry soul Shall, though she now be in extreme degree Too stony, hard and yet too fleshly be Freed by that drop from being starved Hard or foul and life by this death of lead Shall control death whom thy death slough Nor shall to me fear of first or last death Bring misery, if in thy little book My name thou enrol Flesh in that long sleep is not putrefied But made that there of which and for which Twas, nor can by other means be glorified May then sins sleep and deaths soon from me Pass that wait from both, I again rise and may Salute the last and everlasting day Ascension Salute the last and everlasting day Joy at the uprising of this sun and sun Yea, hoes, just tears or tribulation Have purely washed or burnt your drossy clay Behold the highest parting hence away Lightens the dark clouds which he treads upon Nor doth he by ascending show alone But first he and he first enters the way O strong ram which hast batted heaven for me Mild lamb which with thy blood hast marked the path Bright torch which shinest that I the way may see O with thy own blood quench thy own just wrath And if thy holy spirit by muse did raise Dine at my hands this crown of prayer and praise End of part 1 Recorded by Nathan at antipedionwriter.wordpress.com Part 2 of A Selection of Divine Palms by John Dunne This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Nathan at antipedionwriter.wordpress.com A Selection of Divine Palms by John Dunne Part 2 Holy Sonnets 1-19 Also known as The Divine Meditations Sonnet 1 Thou hast made me and shall though work decay Repair me now for nile, mine end doth hast I run to death and death meets me as fast And all my pleasures are like yesterday I dare not move my dim eyes anyway Despair behind and death before doth cast Such terror and my feeble flesh doth waste By sin in it which it towards hell doth weigh Only thou art above and when towards thee By thy leave I can look, I rise again But our old subtle foe so tempteth me That not one hour myself I can sustain Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart Sonnet 2 As due by many titles I resign Myself to thee, O God, first I was made By thee and for thee and when I was decayed Thy blood bought that the which before was thine I am thy son, made with thy self to shine Thy servant whose pains thou hast still repaid Thy sheep, thine image, and till I betrayed Myself a temple of thy spirit divine Why doth the devil then usurp on me? Why doth he steal, nay ravish, that's thy right Except thou rise and fall thine own work fight O, I shall soon despair when I do see That thou lovest mankind well, yet wilt not choose me And Satan hates me, yet is loath to lose me Sonnet 3 I might those sighs and tears return again Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent That I might in this holy discontent mourn With some fruit as I have mourned in vain In mine idolatry, what showers of rain Mine eyes did waste, what griefs my heart did rent That sufferance was my sin, now I repent Cos I did suffer, I must suffer pain The hydroptic drunkard and night-scouting thief The itchy ledger and self-dickling proud Have thee remembrance of past joys for relief Of cunning ills to pour me is allowed, no ease For long yet vehement grief hath been The effect and cause, the punishment and sin Sonnet 4 O, my black soul, now thou art summoned By sickness, death's herald and champion Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done Treason and dust not turn to wence his fled Or like a thief, which till death's doom be read Wisheth himself delivered from prison But damned and hauled to execution Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned Yet, Grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack But who shall give thee that Grace to begin? O, make thyself with holy morning black And red with blushing as thou art with sin Or wash the in Christ's blood, which hath this might That, being red, it dies red souls to white Sonnet 5 I am a little world made cunningly of elements And an angel-like sprite that black sin hath Betrayed to endless night my worlds both parts And O, both parts must die Which beyond that heaven, which was most high, Have found new spheres and of new lands Can write power new seas in mine eyes That so I might drown my world with my weeping Ernest glee, or wash it if it must be drowned no more But O, it must be burnt, alas the fire Of lust and envy have burnt it here to fall And made it fouler, let their flames retire And burn me, O Lord, with the fiery zeal Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal Sonnet 6 This is my place last seen Here heavens appoint my pilgrimages last mile And my race, idly yet quickly run, Hath this last pace, my spans last inch My minutes latest point, and gluttonous death Will instantly unjoint my body and soul And I shall sleep a space, but my ever waking part Shall see that face whose fear already shakes My every joint, then as my soul to heaven A first seat takes flight, and earth-born body In the earth shall dwell so for my sins That all may have their right to where they are bred And would press me to hell Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil Sonnet 7 At the round earth's imagined corners Blow your trumpets, angels, and arise Arise from death, you numberless infinities Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go All whom the flood did, and fire shall overthrow All whom war, dearth, age, aguse, tyrannies Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe But let them sleep, Lord, and be mourner's space For if above all these my sins abound Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace When we are there here on this lowly ground Teach me how to repent, for that's as good As if thou hadst sealed my pardon with thy blood Sonnet 8 If faithful souls be alike glorified as angels Then my father's soul doth see and adds This even too full felicity that valiantly I, hell's wide mouth, overstride And if our minds to these souls be described By circumstances and by signs that be apparent in us Not immediately How shall my mind's white truth by then be tried? They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn And vile blasphemous conjurers to call On Jesus' name and variceical December's feigned devotion Then turn opensive soul to God For he knows best thy true grief For he put it in my breast Sonnet 9 If poisonous minerals and if that tree Whose fruit through death on Elsie mortal Us, if lecherous goats, if serpents envious Cannot be damned, alas, why should I be? Why should intent or reason borne in me Make sins else equal in me more heinous? And mercy being easy and glorious To God in his stern wrath, why threatens he? But who am I that dare dispute with Theogod? O of thine only worthy blood In my tears make a heavenly, lethian flood And drown in it my sin's black memory That thou remember them some claim as debt I think it mercy if thou wilt forget Sonnet 10 Death be not proud, though some have called The mighty and dreadful for thou art not foe For those whom thou thinkest Thou dost overthrow die not, poor death Nor yet canst thou kill me From rest and sleep which but thy pictures be Much pleasure then from thee much more must flow And soonest our best men with thee do go Rest their bones and souls delivery Thou art slave to fate, chance kings and desperate men And dost with poison war and sickness dwell And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke, why swellest thou then? On short sleep past we wake eternally And death shall be no more Death thou shalt die Sonnet 11 Spit in my face, you Jews, and pierce my side Buffet and scoff, scourge and crucify thee For I have sinned and sinned and only he Who could do no iniquity hath died But by my death can not be satisfied my sins Which pass the Jews in piety They killed once an inglorious man But I, crucify him daily, being now glorified O let me then, his strange love still at wire Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment And Jacob came clothed in vile, harsh attire But to supplant and with gainful intent God clothed himself in vile man's flesh That so he might be weak enough to suffer woe Sonnet 12 Why are we, by all creatures, weighted on? Why do the prodigal elements supply Life and food to me, being more pure than I Simple and further from corruption? For I brookest thou ignorant horse subjection Why dost thou boil and bore, so cillily Dissemble weakness and by one man's stroke die Whose whole kind you might swallow and feed upon Weaker I am, woe is me, and worse than you You have not sinned nor need be timorous But wonder at a greater wonder for to us Created nature doth these things subdue But their creator, whom sin nor nature tied For us, his creatures and his foes hath died Sonnet 13 What if this present were the world's last night Mark in my heart oh soul, where thou dost dwell The picture of Christ crucified and tell Whether that countenance can thee affright Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light Blood fills his frowns from which his pierced head fell And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell Which prayed forgiveness for his foe's fierce spite No, no, but as in my idolatry I said to all my profane mistresses Beauty of pity foulness only is a sign of rigor So I say to thee to wicked spirits A horrid shapes assigned This beauty's form assures a piteous mind Sonnet 14 Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend That I may rise and stand, overthrow me and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new I, like an usurped town to another dew, Labor to admit you But oh, to no end, reason your visceroi in me Me should defend, but is captived And proves weak or untrue Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fame But in betrothed unto your enemy Divorce me, untie, or break that not a game Take me to you, imprison me for I Accept you, enthrall me, never shall be free Nor ever chaste, accept you, ravish me Sonnet 15 Wilt thou love God as he thee? Then digest my soul, this wholesome meditation How God the Spirit by angels waited on in heaven Doth make his temple in thy breast The Father having begot a son most blessed And still begetting, for he never begun Hath dined to choose thee by adoption Co-aer to his glory, and Sabbath's endless rest And as a robbed man, which by search doth find His stolen stuff sold, must lose or buy it again The Son of Glory came down, and was slain Us whom he had made, and Satan stolen To unbind, it was much that man was made Like God before, but that God should be made Like man much more Sonnet 16 Father, part of his double interest Unto thy kingdom, thy son gives to me His juncture in the knotty trinity He keeps and gives to me his death's conquest Islam, whose death with life the world hath blessed Was from the world's beginning slain, and he Hath made to wills, which with the legacy Of his and thy kingdom do the sons invest Yet such are thy laws that men argue yet Whether a man those statutes can fulfil Numb doth, but all heal in grace and spirit Revive again what law and letter kill Thy law's abridgment and thy last command Is all but love, O let this last will stand Sonnet 17 Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt To nature and to hers and my good is dead And her soul early into heaven ravished Holy on heavenly things my mind is set Hear thee admiring her my mind did wet To seek thee God, so streams do shoo their head But though I hath found thee, and thou my thirst has to fed A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet But why should I beg more love, when as thou Dost woo my soul for hers, offering all thine And dost not only fear least I allow My love to saints and angels, things divine But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt Least the world flesh, yea, devil, put thee out Sonnet 18 Show me, dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear What is it she which on the other shore goes richly painted Or which robed and tore, laments and mourns in Germany and here Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year Is she self-truth and hers, now new, now out war Doth she and did she, and shall she ever more On one, on seven, or on no heel appear Dwells she with us, or like adventuring nights First travail we to seek and then make love Betray kind husband thy spouse to our sights And let mine amorous soul court thy mild dove Who is most true and pleasing to thee then When she is embraced and open to most men Sonnet 19 Ote vex me, contrary's meet in one In constancy unnaturally hath begot A constant habit that when I would not I change in vows and in devotion As humorous is my contrition As my profane love and as soon forgot As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot As praying as mute as infinite as none Adirst not view heaven yesterday and today In prayers and flattering speeches I court God Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod So my devout fits come and go away Like a fantastic ague, save that here Those are my best days when I shake with fear End of Part 2 Recorded by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com Part 3 of A Selection of Divine Palms by John Dunne This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com A Selection of Divine Palms by John Dunne Part 3 The Cross Since Christ embraced the cross itself Dare I, his image, the image of his cross, deny? Would I have profit by the sacrifice And dare the chosen altar to despise? It bore all other sins, but is it fit That it should bear the sin of scorning it? Who from the picture would avert his eye? How would he fly his pains, who there did die? From me no pulpit, nor misguided law, Nor scandal taken shall this cross withdraw. It shall not, for it cannot, for the loss Of this cross were to me another cross. Better were worse, for no affliction, No cross is so extreme as to have none. Who can blot out the cross, which the instrument Of God do'd on me in the sacrament? Who can deny me power and liberty To stretch mine arms and mine own cross to be? Swim, and at every stroke, thou art thy cross, The mast and yard make one. Where sees dootos, look down, Thou spiced out crosses in small things. Look up, thou seest birds raised on crossed wings. All the globes, frame, and spheres Is nothing else, but thee meridians crossing parallels. Material crosses, then, good physical be, But yet spiritual have chief dignity. These fore extracted chemic medicines serve, And cure much better, and as well preserve. Then are you your own physique, or need none, When stilled or purged by tribulation? For when that cross, ungrudged, unto you sticks, Then are you, to yourself, a crucifix? As perchance carvers do not faces make, But that a way which hid them there do take. Let crosses so take what hid Christ in thee, And be his image or not his but he. But as oft alchemists do coiners prove, So may as self despising get self love. But then as worst suffeets of best meets be, So is pride issued from humility. For tis no child but monster, therefore cross, Your joy in crosses else tis double loss. And cross thy senses else both they and thou, Must perish soon and to destruction bow. For if the eye seek good objects and will take, No cross from bad we cannot escape a snake. So with harsh hard sour stinking cross the rest, Make them in different all call nothing best. But most the eye needs crossing that can roam, And move to the other the objects must come home. And cross thy heart for that in man alone, Points downwards and hath palpitation. Cross those dejections when it downward tends, And when it to forbidden heights pretends. And as the brain through bony walls, Doth vent by sutures which a crosses form present, So when thy brain works ere thou utter it, Cross and correct con cuspience of wit. The covetous of crosses let none fall, Cross no man else but cross thyself in all. Then doth the cross of Christ work fruitfully Within our hearts when we love armlessly. That crosses pictures much and with more care, That crosses children which our crosses are. Recording by Nathan at antipodinwriter.wordpress.com A selection of divine poems by John Dunne, part four. Resurrection, imperfect or incomplete. Sleep, sleep old son, thou canst not have repast, As yet the wound thou tookst on Friday last. Sleep then and rest, the world may bear thy stay. A better sun rose before thee today. Who not content to enlighten all that dwell On the earth's face as thou enlightened hell, And made the dark fire's languish in that veil, As at thy presence hear our fires cropail, His body having walked on earth and now, Hasting to heaven would that he might allow himself Unto all stations and fill all. For these three days become a mineral. He was all gold when he lay down, But rose, all tincture, and doth not alone dispose, Leaden and iron wills to good but is, Of power to make even sinful flesh like his. Had one of those, whose credulous piety, Thought that a soul one might discern and see, Go from a body at this sepulchre beam, And issuing from the sheet this body seen, He would have justly thought this body a soul, If not of any man, yet of the whole. To Sunt Gitterer. Summit One. I may rise up from death before I am dead. Summit Two. The Sun. O Son of God, who seeing two things, Sin and death crept in which were never made, By bearing one triadist with what stings, The other could thine heritage invade, O be thou nailed unto my heart and crucified again. Part not from it though it from thee would part, But let it be by applying so thy pain, Drowned in thy blood and in thy passion slain. Summit Three. The Holy Ghost. O Holy Ghost, whose temple I, In but of mud walls and condensed dust, And being sacrilegiously half wasted With youth's fires of pride and lust, Must with new storms be weather beat, Double in my heart thy flame, Which let devout sad tears intend, And let though this glass-lanthorn flesh Do suffer main, fire sacrifice, Priest, all to be the same. Summit Four. The Trinity. O Blessed Glorious Trinity. Bones to philosophy, but milk to faith, Which as wise serpents diversely, Most slipperiness yet most entanglings hath, As you distinguished undistinct By power, love, knowledge be. Give me a such self-different instinct Of these that all me elemented be, Of power to love to know you are numbered three. Summit Five. The Virgin Mary. For that fair blessed mother maid, Whose flesh redeemed us, that she cherubin, Which unlocked paradise and maid, One claim for innocence and deceased sin, Whose womb was a strange heaven For their God clothed himself and grew. Our zealous thanks, we pour, As her deeds were, Our helps, so are her prayers, Nor can she sue, in vain, Who hath such titles unto you. Summit Six. The Angels. And since this life our knowledge is, And we in towardship to thine angels be, Native in heaven's fair palaces, Where we shall be but denizen'd by thee, As the earth conceiving by the sun Yields fair diversity. Yet never knows which course that light doth run, So let me study that mine actions be, Worthy their sight, though blind in how they see. Summit Seven. The Patriarchs. And let thy patriarchs desire, Those great grandfathers of thy church, Which saw more in the cloud than we in fire, Whom nature cleared more than us grace and law. And now in heaven still pray that we May use our new helps right. Be satisfied and fructify in me, Let not my mind be blinder by more light, Nor faith by reason added lose her sight. Summit Eight. The Prophets. Thy eagle sighted Prophets too, Which were thy church's organs and did sound. That harmony which made of two, One law and did unite, but not confound. Those heavenly poets which did see Thy will and it express. In rhythmic feet in common pray for me, That I by them excuse not my excess In seeking secrets, Or poetic-ness. Summit Nine. The Apostles. And thy illustrious Zodiac, Of twelve apostles which engirt this all, From whom whosoever do not take Their light to dark deep pits throw down and fall. As through their prayers, Thou hast let me know that their books are divine. May they pray still and be heard that I go, The old broad way in applying, O decline me when my comment Would make thy word mine. Summit Ten. The Martyrs. And since thou so desirously Didst long to die that long before thou couldst, And long since thou no more couldst die, Thou in thy scattered mystic body wouldst, And abled I, and ever since in thine let their blood come. To beg for us at discreet patience Of death or of worse life for O to some, Not to be martyrs is a martyrdom. Summit Eleven. The Confessors. They fall with thee triumphant there, A virgin's squadron of white confessors, Whose bloods betrothed, not married were, Tended not taken by those ravishes. They know and pray that we may know, In every Christian. Hourly tempestuous persecutions grow, Temptations martyr us alive, a man, Is to himself a dioclesion. Summit Twelve. The Virgins. The cold white snowy nunnery, Which as thy mother, their high abyss, Sent their bodies back again to thee, As thou hadst lent them, clean and innocent. Though they have not obtained of thee That all thy church or eye, Should keep as they our first integrity, Divorce thou sin in us, or bid it die, And call chaste widowhead virginity. Summit Thirteen. The Doctors. Thy sacred academy above, Of doctors whose pains have unclasped and taught, Both books of life to us for love, To know thy scriptures tells us, We are wrote in thy other book. Pray for us there, that what they have misdone, Or mislaid we too that may not adhere, Their zeal may be our sin. Lord, let us run mean ways and call them stars, But not the sun. Summit Fourteen. And whilst this universe or choir, That church in triumph, this in warfare here, Warmed with one all partaking fire of love, That none be lost which cost thee dear, Praise ceaselessly and thou harken too, Since to be gracious. Our task is treble to pray, bear and do. Hear this prayer, Lord, O Lord, deliver us from trusting in those prayers, Though powered out thus. Summit Fifteen. From being anxious or secure, Dead clods of sadness or light, Scripps of mirth, From thinking that great courts in lure, All or no happiness, All that this earth is only for our prison framed, Or that thou art covetous, To them whom thou lovest, or that they are maimed, From reaching this world sweet who seek thee thus, With all their might, good Lord, deliver us. Summit Sixteen. From needing danger to be good, From owing thee yesterday's tears today, And trusting so much to thy blood, That in that hope we wound our soul away, From bribing thee with arms to excuse Some sin more burdeness, From light affecting in religion, news, From thinking all our soul, Neglecting thus our mutual duties, Lord, deliver us. Sight Seventy. From tempting Satan to tempt us, From our connivance or slack company, From measuring ill by vicious, Neglecting two-choke sin-spawn vanity, From indiscreet humility which might be scandalous, And cast reproach on Christianity, From being spies or two spies pervious, From thirst or scorn of fame, Deliver us. Summit Eighteen. Deliver us for thy descent Into the virgin whose womb was a place Of middle-kind and thou being sent. To ungracious us, stadest, at her full of grace, And through thy poor birth, where first thou glorifiedest poverty, And yet, soon after riches didst allow, By accepting kings' gifts in the epiphany, Deliver and make us to both ways free. Summit Nineteen. And through that bitter agony, Which is still the agony of pious wits, Disputing what distorted thee, And interrupted evenness with fits, And through thy free confession, Though thereby they were then Made blind, so that thou mightest from them have gone. Good Lord, deliver us and teach us when We may not, and we may, blind unjust men. Summit Twenty. Through thy submitting all to blows, Thy face, thy clothes to spoil, thy fame to scorn. All ways which rage or justice knows, And by which thou couldst eschew, that thou wast born. And through thy gallant humbleness, Which thou in death didst eschew, Dying before thy soul they could express, Deliver us from death by dying so. To this world, ere this world, do bid us go. Summit Twenty-One. When senses which thy soldiers are, We arm against thee, and they fight for sin. When want sent but to tame doth war, And work despair a bridge to enter in. When plenty God's image and seal makes us idolatrous, And love it not him whom it should reveal. When we are moved to seem religious, Only to vent wit, Lord, deliver us. Summit Twenty-Two. In churches when the infirmity of him Which speaks diminishes the word, When magistrates do misapply to us, As we judge lay or ghostly soared. When plague, which is thine angel, Ranges or wars thy champions sway, When heresy thy second deluge gains, In the hour of death the eve of last judgment day, Deliver us from the sinister way. Summit Twenty-Three. Hear us, O hearer's Lord, to thee. A sinner is more music when he prays, Than spears or angels' praises be. In Panagiric Alleluia's. Hear us, for till thou hearest, Lord, We know not what to say. Thine ear to our sighs, Tears thoughts give voice and word, O thou who Satan heardest in Job's sick day. Hear thyself now, for thou in us dost pray. Summit Twenty-Four. That we may change to evenness, This intermitting anguish piety, That snatching cramps of wickedness, And apoplexes of fast sin may die. That music of thy promises, Not threats in thunder may awaken us To our just offices. What in thy book thou dost or creatures say, That we may hear, Lord, hear us when we pray. Summit Twenty-Five. That our ear's sickness we may cure, And rectify those labyrinths aright. That we, by harkening, not procure, Our praise nor others dispraise so invite. That we get not a slipperiness, And senselessly decline, From hearing bold wits just at king's excess, To admit the like of majesty divine, That we may lock our ears, Lord, open thine. Summit Twenty-Six. That living law, the magistrate, Which to give us and make us physic doth, Our vices often aggravate. That preachers taxing sin before her growth. That Satan and Invenom'd men, Which whirl if we starve, die. When they do most accuses, May see them, us to amendment, Hear them, thee decline, That we may open our ears, Lord, lock thine. Summit Twenty-Six. That learning, thine ambassador, From thine allegiance we never tempt. That beauty paradise's flower, The physic made from poison be exempt. That wit born apt, high good to do, By dwelling lazily. On nature's nothing be not nothing too. That our affections kill us not nor die. Hear us, weak echoes, O thy ear, and cry. Summit Twenty-Eight. Son of God, hear us, And since thou, by taking our blood, Hoisted us again. Gain to thyself or us allow, Let not both us and thyself be slain. O Lamb of God, which tookest our sin, Which could not stick to thee, O let it not return to us again, But patient and physician being free, As sin is nothing, let it nowhere be.