Prison-pietie, or, Meditations divine and moral digested into poetical heads, on mixt and various subjects : whereunto is added a panegyrick to the right reverend, and most nobly descended, Henry Lord Bishop of London / by Samuel Speed ...

¶ To God the Son.

LEt others take their course, And sing what Name they please; Let Wealth or Beauty be their theam, Such empty sounds as these. I never will admire A lump of burnish'd Clay; For though it shines, it is but dust, And shall to dust decay. Sweet Jesus is the Name My Song shall still adore; Sweet Jesus is the charming Word That does my Life restore. When I am dead in grief, Or, what is worse, in sin, I call on Jesus, and he hears, And I to live begin.

Wherefore, to thee, bright Name, Behold, thus low I bow, And thus again; yet is all this Nothing to what I owe. Down then, down bow my knees Still lower to the ground, While with mine eyes and voice lift up, Aloud these Lines I sound: Live Heaven's glorious King, By Angels bright ador'd; Live, gracious Saviour of the World, Our chief and only Lord: Live, and for ever may Thy Throne establish'd be; For ever may all hearts and tongues Sing Praises unto thee.