| MY God, I heard this day | |
| That none doth build a stately habitation | |
| But he that means to dwell therein. | |
| What house more stately hath there been, | |
| Or can be, then is Man? to whose creation | 5 |
| All things are in decay. | |
| |
| For Man is ev’ry thing, | |
| And more: he is a tree, yet bears no fruit; | |
| A beast, yet is, or should be, more: | |
| Reason and speech we onely bring; | 10 |
| Parrats may thank us, if they are not mute, | |
| They go upon the score. | |
| |
| Man is all symmetrie, | |
| Full of proportions, one limbe to another, | |
| And all to all the world besides; | 15 |
| Each part may call the farthest brother, | |
| For head with foot hath private amitie, | |
| And both with moons and tides. | |
| |
| Nothing hath got so farre | |
| But Man hath caught and kept it as his prey; | 20 |
| His eyes dismount the highest starre; | |
| He is in little all the sphere; | |
| Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they | |
| Find their acquaintance there. | |
| |
| For us the windes do blow, | 25 |
| The earth doth rest, heav’n move, and fountains flow; | |
| Nothing we see but means our good, | |
| As our delight or as our treasure; | |
| The whole is either our cupboard of food | |
| Or cabinet of pleasure. | 30 |
| |
| The starres have us to bed, | |
| Night draws the curtain, which the sunne withdraws; | |
| Musick and light attend our head, | |
| All things unto our flesh are kinde | |
| In their descent and being; to our minde | 35 |
| In their ascent and cause. | |
| |
| Each thing is full of dutie: | |
| Waters united are our navigation; | |
| Distinguished, our habitation; | |
| Below, our drink; above, our meat; | 40 |
| Both are our cleanlinesse. Hath one such beautie? | |
| Then how are all things neat! | |
| |
| More servants wait on Man | |
| Than he’l take notice of: in ev’ry path | |
| He treads down that which doth befriend him | 45 |
| When sicknesse makes him pale and wan. | |
| Oh mightie love! Man is one world, and hath | |
| Another to attend him. | |
| |
| Since then, my God, Thou hast | |
| So brave a palace built, O dwell in it, | 50 |
| That it may dwell with Thee at last! | |
| Till then afford us so much wit, | |
| That, as the world serves us, we may serve Thee, | |
| And both Thy servants be. | |
