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 ...

¶ On Christ's Cross.

CAn we spell Chris-cross row, and yet not read That Christ for us was dead? How he himself did humble unto death, Loosing his life to give us breath?

But now he shines in the Coelestial Frame, And hath receiv'd a Name To which all knees shall bow, and tongues shall say, This is the Lord, we must obey.

He that doth disregard the Cross of Christ, Of Happiness hath mist; Destruction is his end, his glory shame; But happy he doth love the same.

I will not hate the Cross, nor yet adore Any but he it bore. I'll not blaspheme the Cross, because twas dy'd With his rich blood was crucifi'd.

Rich beyond price; for when that blood was spilt It cleans'd a world of guilt, It bought mankinde: for when Christ's blood was flown, As Lord, he call'd us all his own.

Wherefore I will not worship any one But my dear Lord alone. Take up my Cross and bear my Cross I will, I'll love it and embrace it still.

But to adore my Cross I will not dare, All knees should that forbear: In reverence to his Name all hearts shall bow With pious Zeal, as mine does now.

Christ never wanted crosses, scoffs, and scorns; His ways were strew'd with thorns: Then may we judge by his most sacred birth, He's cross'd, wants crosses here on Earth.