Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in.

Who marks in church-time other symmetry,

Makes all their beauty his deformity.

Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part:

Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasure thither

Christ purged the temple; so must thou thy heart.

All worldly thoughts are but these met together

To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well:

For churches either are our heaven or hell.

Judge not the preacher; for he is thy judge:

If thou mislike him, thou conceivest him not.

God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge

To pick out treasures from an earthen pot.

The worst speak something good: if all want sense, God takes a text and preaches pa tience.

[From the Church Porch.]

SUM UP AT NIGHT.

SUM up at night, what thou hast done by day;

And in the morning, what thou hast to do.

Dress and undress thy soul: mark the decay

And growth of it: if with thy watch that too

Be down, then wind up both, since we shall be

Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree.

BOSOM SIN.

girt us round!

The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave

Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and

roses.

A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to
coal,
Then chiefly lives.

When the passing bell doth toll, And the Furies, in a shoal, Come to fright a parting soul,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few.
And that number more than true,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what he said
Because my speech is now decayed,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knows, I'm tost about
Either with despair or doubt,
Yet before the glass be out,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the Tempter me pursu'th.
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the flames and hellish cries Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes,

And all terrors me surprise,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When the judgment is revealed, And that opened which was sealed When to Thee I have appealed.

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

CYDNUS.

FLUTES in the sunny air!

And harps in the porphyry halls!

And a low, deep hum like a people's prayer,

With its heart-breathed swells and falls!

And an echo like the desert's call, Flung back to the shouting shores! And the river's ripple heard through all,

As it plays with the silver oars!

And the amber breezes float Like thoughts to be dreamed of, but never told,

Around the dancing boat!

She has stepped on the burning sand; And the thousand tongues are

mute,

And the Syrian strikes with a trembling hand

The strings of his gilded lute! And the Ethiop's heart throbs loud and high

Beneath his white symar,