An Holie Man, 48.
HIs heart is Heavenly, and his Hopes are hie,
Ev'r over-mounting all Mortalitie.
Things that's corrupt, hee doth contemne, and hold
All Mammons Meanes, bot Mucke, Goods, Treasure, Gold.
No Honours heere, nor Pleasure hee respects,
Bot thinks they are of Fancies, frayle Effects.
The Soli-loquies of his Soule are sweet,
His Mouth and Mynde in Meditation meet.
Natures Perfection, is an Holie Man,
And the best Good that Shee exhibite can.
For what hath Earth more perfect than that Spright,
In Sanctitie that serues his GOD aright?
Yet Nature perfects no such Peace alone,
But Grace and Fayth their working there-vpon.
The Holy Man, is only hee that's wyse,
For only Heav'n hee holds before his Eyes.
And what is heere Below, and Earthly, hee
That vses only for Necessitie.
And so, as that they finde him and afford,
To serue his Needs, while that hee serues his LORD.
His Senses so hee tempreth and commands,
That they t'obey his Spirit readie stands.
Which in an Orbe Aethereall doth moue,
Stirr'd by a Strength and Power from Aboue.
And by observing Natures Course and Lawes,
The Arte of Reason, hee acquires, and knawes.
And Treads on the th'Earth, and trav'ling, doth remaine,
While hee turne Earth; and bee trod on againe.