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| YOU that haue spent the silent night | |
| In sleepe and quiet rest, | |
| And ioy to see the cheerefull lyght | |
| That riseth in the East: | |
| Now cleare your voyce, now cheere your hart, | 5 |
| Come helpe me now to sing: | |
| Ech willing wight come beare a part, | |
| To prayse the heauenly King. | |
| |
| And you whome care in prison keepes, | |
| Or sickenes doth suppresse, | 10 |
| Or secret sorowe breakes your sleepes, | |
| Or dolours doe distresse: | |
| Yet beare a part in dolefull wise; | |
| Yea, thinke it good accorde, | |
| And exceptable sacrifice, | 15 |
| Ech sprite to prayse the Lorde. | |
| |
| The dreadfull night with darkesomnes | |
| Had ouerspread the light, | |
| And sluggish sleepe with drowsines | |
| Had ouerprest our might: | 20 |
| A glasse wherein you may beholde | |
| Ech storme that stops our breath, | |
| Our bed the graue, our clothes lyke molde, | |
| And sleepe like dreadfull death. | |
| |
| Yet as this deadly night did laste | 25 |
| But for a little space, | |
| And heauenly daye, now night is past, | |
| Doth shewe his pleasaunt face: | |
| So must we hope to see God’s face | |
| At last in heauen on hie, | 30 |
| When we haue changde this mortall place | |
| For Immortalitie. | |
| |
| And of such haps and heauenly ioyes, | |
| As then we hope to holde, | |
| All earthly sightes and worldly toyes | 35 |
| Are tokens to beholde. | |
| The daye is like the daye of doome, | |
| The sunne the Sonne of man, | |
| The skyes the heauens, the earth the tombe | |
| Wherein we rest till then. | 40 |
| |
| The Rainbowe bending in the skie, | |
| Bedeckte with sundrye hewes, | |
| Is like the seate of God on hie, | |
| And seemes to tell these newes: | |
| That as thereby he promised | 45 |
| To drowne the world no more, | |
| So by the bloud which Christ hath shed | |
| He will our helth restore. | |
| |
| The mistie cloudes that fall somtime, | |
| And ouercast the skyes, | 50 |
| Are like to troubles of our time, | |
| Which doe but dymme our eies: | |
| Bu as such dewes are dryed vp quite, | |
| When Phœbus shewes his face, | |
| So are such fansies put to flighte, | 55 |
| Where God dooth guide by grace. | |
| |
| The carion Crowe, that lothsome beast, | |
| Which cries agaynst the rayne, | |
| Both for hir hewe and for the rest | |
| The Deuill resembleth playne: | 60 |
| And as with gunnes we kill the crowe, | |
| For spoyling our releefe, | |
| The Deuill so must we overthrowe | |
| With gunshote of beleefe. | |
| |
| The little birdes which sing so swete | 65 |
| Are like the angells’ voyce, | |
| Which render God his prayses meete, | |
| And teache vs to reioyce: | |
| And as they more esteeme that merth | |
| Than dread the night’s annoy, | 70 |
| So must we deeme our dayes on erth | |
| But hell to heauenly ioye. | |
| |
| Unto which ioyes for to attayne | |
| God graunt vs all hys grace, | |
| And send vs, after worldlie payne, | 75 |
| In heauen to haue a place: | |
| Where wee maye still enioye that light, | |
| Which neuer shall decaye: | |
| Lord, for thy mercy lend vs might | |
| To see that ioyfull daye. | 80 |
Haud ictus sapio. | |
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