Sweet hope is soueraigne comfort of our life,
Our ioy in sorrow and our peace in strife,
The dame of beggers, and the queene of kings :
Can those delight in height of prosperous things
Without expecting still to keepe them sure ?
Can those the weight of heauy wants endure,
Vnlesse perswasion instant paine allay,
Eeseruing spirit for a better day ?
Our God, who planted in his creatures' brest
This stop on which the wheeles of passion rest,
Hath rayscl by beames of his abundant grace
This strong affection to a higher place.
It is the second vertue which attends
That soule whose motion to his sight ascends.
Rest here, my mind ; thou shalt no longer stay
To gaze vpon these houses made of clay:
Thou shalt not stoope to honours, or to lands,
Nor golden halles, where sliding fortune stands.
If no false colours draw thy steps amisse,
Thou hast a palace of eternall blisse ;
A paradise from care and feare exempt,
And obiect worthy of the best attempt.
Who would not for so rich a country fight ?
Who would not runne that sees a gaole so bright?
O thou who art our Author and our end,
On whose large mercy chaines of hope depend,
Lift me to thee by thy propitious hand;
For lower I can find no place to stand.