36. The Morning Watch

O JOYES! Infinite sweetnes! with what flowres,

And shoots of glory, my soul breakes, and buds

All the long houres

Of night, and Rest,

Through the still shrouds

Of sleep, and Clouds,

This Dew fell on my Breast;

O how it Blouds,

And Spirits all my Earth! heark! In what Rings,

And Hymning Circulations the quick world

Awakes, and sings;

The rising winds,

And falling springs,

Brids, beasts, all things

Adore him in their kinds.

Thus all is hurl’d

In sacred Hymnes, and Order, The great Chime

And Symphony of nature. Prayer is

The world in tune,

A spirit-voyce,

And vocall joyes

Whose Eccho is heav’ns blisse.

O let me climbe

When I lye down! The Pious soul by night

Is like a clouded starre, whose beames though sed

To shed their light

Under some Cloud

Yet are above,

And shine, and move

Beyond that mistie shrowd.

So in my Bed

That Curtain’d grave, though sleep, like ashes, hide

My lamp, and life, both shall in thee abide.