HEAVENLY LOVE. LOVE! lift me up upon thy golden wings From this base world unto thy heaven's height, Which there thou workest by thy sovereign might, That I thereof an heavenly hymn may sing Before this world's great frame, in which all things Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas' wings About that mighty bound which doth embrace That high Eternal power, which now doth move It loved itself because itself was fair, (For fair is loved,) and of itself begot, Like to itself, his eldest son and heir, Eternal, pure, and void of sinful blot, With Him He reigned before all time prescribed, Most wise, most holy, most Almighty Sprite, Whose kingdom's throne no thoughts of earthly wight Can comprehend, much less my trembling verse With equal words can hope it to rehearse. 'Eyas, young, newly fledged; a young hawk not fit for flight. Yet, O most blessed Spirit! pure lamp of light, Eternal spring of grace and wisdom true, Vouchsafe to shed into my barren sprite Some little drop of thy celestial dew, That may my rhymes with sweet infuse imbrue, And give me words equal unto my thought, To tell the marvels by thy mercy wrought. Yet being pregnant still with powerful grace, His second brood, though not of power so great, An infinite increase of angels bright, To show the heaven's illimitable height, (Not this round heaven which we from hence behold,) Adorned with thousand lamps of burning light, And with ten thousand gems of shining gold, That they might serve him in eternal bliss, There they in their trinal triplicities About Him wait, and on his will depend, Either with nimble wings to cut the skies Where they behold the glory of his light, Both day and night is unto them all one, For He his beams doth unto them extend, Nor hath their day, nor hath their bliss, an end, Nor ever should their happiness decay But pride, impatient of long-resting peace, Did puff them up with greedy bold ambition, That they 'gan cast their state how to increase Above the fortune of their first condition, And sit in God's own seat without commission: The brightest angel, e'en the child of light, The Almighty, seeing their so bold assay, Kindled the flame of his consuming ire, And with his only breath them blew away From heaven's height, to which they did aspire, So that next offspring of the Maker's love, Degenering' to hate, fell from above Through pride, (for pride and love may ill agree,) And now of sin to all ensample be. How then can sinful flesh itself assure, Sith purest angels fell to be impure? But that eternal fount of love and grace, Still flowing forth his goodness unto all, Now seeing left a waste and empty place In his wide palace, through these angels' fall, A new and unknown colony therein, Whose root from earth's base groundwork should begin. Therefore of clay, base, vile, and next to naught, Yet formed by wondrous skill, and by his might, According to an heavenly pattern wrought, Which He had fashioned in his wise foresight, 1 Degenerating. Into his face most beautiful and fair, Endued with wisdom's riches, heavenly, rare. Such He him made, that he resemble might He made by love out of his own like mould, But man, forgetful of his Maker's grace, No less than angels whom he did ensue,' Till that great Lord of Love, which him at first Seeing him lie like creature long accursed In that deep horror of despairing hell, Him wretch in dole would let no longer dwell, But cast out of that bondage to redeem Out of the bosom of eternal bliss In which He reigned with his glorious sire, He down descended, like a most demiss1 And abject thrall, in flesh's frail attire, That He for him might pay sin's deadly hire, And him restore into that happy state In which he stood before his hapless fate. 1 Follow. 2 Sorrow. 3 Although. • Humble. In flesh at first the guilt committed was, So taking flesh of sacred virgin's womb, And that most blessed body, which was born Of cruel hands, who, with despiteful shame At length Him nailed on a gallow-tree, O blessed well of love! O flower of grace! O glorious morning star! O lamp of light! Most lively image of thy father's face, Eternal King of Glory, Lord of Might, Meek Lamb of God before all worlds belight,' Yet naught thou ask'st in lieu of all this love But love of us, for guerdon of thy pain. Ay me! what can us less than that behove? Had He required life of us again, He Had it been wrong to ask his own again? gave us life, He it restored lost; Then life were least that us so little cost. But He our life hath left unto us free, Free that was thrall, and blessed that was banned,' Nor aught demands but that we loving be, As He himself hath loved us aforehand, And bound thereto with an eternal band ' Named. 2 Reward. • Cursed |