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orhE DEPENDENcy of the soul.’s faculties Upox 1. Ach othen.

This is the soul, and these her virtues be ; [ends,
Which, though they have their sundry proper

And one exceeds another in degree,
Yet each on other mutually depends.

Our wit is giv'n Almighty God to know ;
Our will is giv'n to love him, being known :

But God could not be known to us below, [shown.
But by his works, which through the sense are

And as the wit doth reap the fruits of sense,
So doth the quick’ning pow'r the senses feed:

Thus while they do their sundry gifts dispense,
“The best the service of the least doth need.”

Ev’n so the king his magistrates do serve,
Yet commons feed both magistrates and king :

The common's peace the magistrates preserve,
By borrow’d pow'r, which from the prince doth


The quick’ning power would be, and so would rest;
The sense would not be only, but be well:

*But wit’s ambition longeth to the best,
For it desires in endless bliss to dwell.

And these three pow’rs three sorts of men do
make ;
For some, like plants, their veins do only fill;
And some, like beasts, their senses' pleasure take;
And some, like angels, do contemplate still.

Therefore the fables turn’d some men to flow’rs,
And others did with brutish forms invest;

And did of others make celestial pow'rs,
Like angels, which still travel, yet still rest.

Yet these three pow'rs are not three souls, but
One ;
As one and two are both contain’d in three :
Three being one number by itself alone,
A shadow of the blessed Trinity.

Oh! what is man, great Maker of mankind!
That thou to him so great respect dost bear!

That thou adorn'st him with so bright a mind,
Mak'st him a king, and e'en an angel's peer!

Oh! what a lively life, what heav'nly pow'r,
What spreading virtue, what a sparkling fire,

How great, how plentiful, how rich a dow’r
Dost thou within this dying flesh inspire!

Thou leav'st thy print in other works of thine;
But thy whole image thou in man hast writ:

There cannot be a creature more divine,
Except (like thee) it should be infinite!

But it exceeds man's thought, to think how high. God hath rais'd man, since God a man becameo

The angels do admire this mystery,
And are astonish’d when they view the same.

Nor hath he giv'n these blessings for a day,
Nor made them on the body’s life depend:

The soul, though made in time, survives for ay;
And though it hath beginning, sees no end.

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HER only end is never-ending bliss,
Which is, the eternal face of God to see;

Who, last of ends, and first of causes is :
And, to do this, she must eternal be.

How senseless then and dead a soul hath he,
Which thinks his soul doth with his body die:

Or thinks not so, but so would have it be,
That he might sin with more security

For though these light and vicious persons say,
Our soul is but a smoke, or airy blast,

Which, during life, doth in our nostrils play,
And when we die doth turn to wind at last :

Although they say, “Come, let us eat and drink; Our life is but a spark, which quickly dies :” Though thus they say, they know not what to think; But in their minds ten thousand doubts arise.

Therefore no heretics desire to spread
Their light opinions, like these epicures;

For so their stagg'ring thoughts are comforted,
And other men's assent their doubt assures.

Yet though these men against their conscience strive, There are some sparkles in their flinty breasts, Which cannot be extinct, but still revive; That, though they would, they cannot quite be beasts.

But whoso makes a mirror of his mind,
And doth with patience view himself therein,

His soul's eternity shall clearly find,
Though th' other beauties be defac'd with sin.

Drawn from the desire of knowledge.

First, in man's mind we find an appetite
To learn and know the truth of ev'rything,

Which is co-natural, and born with it,
And from the essence of the soul doth spring.

With this desire, she hath a native might
To find out ev'ry truth, if she had time;

Th’ innumerable effects to sort aright,
And, by degrees, from cause to cause to climb.

But since our life so fast away doth slide,
As doth a hungry eagle through the wind;
Vol. IV, G

Or as a ship transported with the tide,
Which in their passage leave no print behind.

Of which swift little time so much we spend,
While some few things we through the sense do

That our short race of life is at an end, [strain,
Ere we the principles of skill attain.

Or God (who to vain ends hath nothing done)
In vain this appetite and pow'r hath giv'n;

Or else our knowledge, which is here begun,
Hereafter must be perfected in Heav'n.

God never gave a pow'r to one whole kind,
But most part of that kind did use the same:
Most eyes have perfect sight, though some be
Most legs can nimbly run, though some be lame.

But in this life, no soul the truth can know
So perfectly, as it hath pow'r to do:

If then perfection be not found below,
An higher place must make her mount thereto.

Drawn from the motion of the soul.

Again, how can she but immortal be,
When, with the motions of both will and wit,

She still aspireth to eternity,
And never rests, till she attain to it?

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