Emblemes by Francis Quarles.

PSALM 17. 5.

Stay my steps in thy paths, that my feet do not slide.

1

WHen ere the old Exchange of profit rings Her silver Saints-bell of uncertain gains, My merchant soul can stretch both legs and wings; How I can run, and take unwearied pains! The charms of profit are so strong, that I Who wanted legs to go find wings to fly.

2

〈◊〉〈◊〉 time-beguiling Pleasure but advance Her lustfull trump, and blow her bold alarms, O how my sportfull •…•…oul can frisk and dance, And hug that Syren in her twined arms! The sprightly voyce of sinew-strengthning pleasure Can lend my bedrid soul both legs and leasure.

3

If blazing Honour chance to fill my veins With flatt'ring warmth, and flash of Courtly fire, My soul can take a pleasure in her pains; My lofty strutting steps disdain to tire; My antick knees can turn upon the hinges Of Complement, and sk•…•…ue a thousand cringes.

4

•…•…ut when I come to Thee, my God, that art The royall Myne of everlasting treasure, The reall Honour of my better part, And living Fountain of eternall pleasure, How nervelesse are my limbs! how faint and flow! I have nor wings to fly, nor legs to go.

5

So when the streams of swift-foot Rhene convay Her upland riches to the Belgick shore; The idle vessel slides the wat'ry lay, Without the blast, or tug, of wind, or oare; Her slipp'ry keel divides the silver fome With ease; so facil is the way from home.

6

But when the home-bound vessel turns her sails Against the breast of the resisting stream, O then she slugs; nor sail, nor oare prevails; The Stream is sturdy, and her Tides extreme: Each stroke is losse, and ev'ry tug is vain: A Boat-lengths purchase is a League of pain.

7

Great All in All, that art my rest, my home; My way is tedious, and my steps are slow: Reach forth thy helpfull hand, or bid me come: I am thy child, O teach thy child to go: Conjoyn thy sweet commands to my desire, And I will venture, though I fall or tire.

S. AUGUST. Ser. 15. de Verb. Apost.

Be alwayes displeased at what thou art, if thou desirest to attain to what thou art not: For where thou hast pleased thy self, there thou abidest: But if thou sayest, I have enough, thou perishest: Alwayes adde, alwayes walk, alwayes proceed; neither stand still, nor go back, nor deviate: He that standeth still, proceedeth not; He goeth back, that continueth not; He deviateth, that revolteth: He goeth better that creepeth in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 way, then he that runneth out of his way.

EPIG. 3.

Fear not, my Soul, to lose for want of cunning; Weep not; Heav'n is not alwayes got by running: Thy thoughts are swist, although thy legs be slow; True love will creep, not having strength to go.