Silex scintillans, or, Sacred poems and priuate eiaculations by Henry Vaughan ...

Praise.

KIng of Comforts! King of life! Thou hast cheer'd me, And when fears, and doubts were rife, Thou hast cleer'd me!

Not a nook in all my Breast But thou fill'st it, Not a thought, that breaks my rest, But thou kill'st it;

Wherefore with my utmost strength I wil praise thee, And as thou giv'st line, and length, I wil raise thee;

Day, and night, not once a day I will blesse thee, And my soul in new array I will dresse thee;

Not one minute in the year But I'l mind thee, As my seal, and bracelet here I wil bind thee;

In thy word, as if in heaven I wil rest me, And thy promise 'til made even There shall feast me.

Then, thy sayings all my life They shal please me, And thy bloudy wounds, and strife They wil ease me;

With thy grones my daily breath I will measure, And my life hid in thy death I will treasure.

Though then thou art Past thought of heart All perfect fulness, And canst no whit Accesse admit From dust and dulness;

Yet to thy name (as not the same With thy bright Essence,) Our foul, Clay hands At thy Commands Bring praise, and Incense;

If then, dread Lord, When to thy board Thy wretch comes begging, He hath a flowre Or (to his pow'r,) Some such poor Off'ring;

When thou hast made Thy begger glad, And fill'd his bosome, Let him (though poor,) Strow at thy door That one poor Blossome.