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| O SINFULL soule, the cause of Iesus’ passion, | |
| Put sorrowes on, and sighing view thy guilt; | |
| Bring all thy thoughts, fix them on meditation, | |
| Weep drops of tears for streams of blood Christ spilt. | |
| Summon thy fostred sinnes, selfe-hatched euils, | 5 |
| And cast them low as hell: they are the deuils. | |
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| Seat vertue riuall, where vsurping vice | |
| Had seaz’d for Sathan to possese thy hart; | |
| And though the traitor flesh from grace intice, | |
| Yet yeeld thy Sauiour his deere purchast part: | 10 |
| The greatest loue that heau’n or earth doth know, | |
| Did heau’n’s free loue on hel’s bond-slaues bestow. | |
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| He left his Father’s glorious right-hand seat, | |
| To liue euen where his earthly footstole stands, | |
| Vnmou’d thereto by our submisse intreat, | 15 |
| No suite of clay obtain’d it at his hands; | |
| No power in vs, no humane will that sought it; | |
| It was his loue; grace freely giuen wrought it. | |
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| O loue of soules, death’s victor, true life-giuer, | |
| What charitie did ouercome thee so, | 20 |
| To die, that man might be eternall liuer, | |
| Being thine aduerse, disobedient foe? | |
| For friends if one should die were rarely much; | |
| But die for foes, the world affords none such! | |
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| An ignominious death in shame’s account, | 25 |
| Of odious censure, and contempt’s disgrace, | |
| On Caluarie, a stincking dunghill mount, | |
| For murderers the common fatall place: | |
| There dide the angels’ brightnesse, God and man; | |
| There death was vanquisht, and true life began. | 30 |
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| Yet there began not Iesus suffering, | |
| Nor in the garden with his soule’s vexation: | |
| There he perform’d victorious conquering; | |
| His life was nothing els but stintlesse passion— | |
| From cratch to crosse he trod a paineful path | 35 |
| Betwixt our guilt and God’s reuengefull wrath. | |
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| What paines their paines to Iesus not impart? | |
| What moment tortures’ want did he indure? | |
| What anguish addes not to his greeued heart? | |
| What minute was he sorrowlesse secure? | 40 |
| What age, wherein his troubles were neglected? | |
| What people, but his death cheeflie affected? | |
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| In eies he suffred monefull showres of teares; | |
| His face had spittings and dispightfull blowes; | |
| Blasphemous speech vpbraid his sacred eares; | 45 |
| Most lothsome carrion stincks entred his nose; | |
| Gall in his mouth; the holiest hands were bound,— | |
| Hands, feet, heart, head, were nailed, pierc’d, and crown’d. | |
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| From his birth-hower vntill his life-lost blood, | |
| What moment past wherein hee did not merite? | 50 |
| What minute scap’d imploiment vnto good? | |
| Who did implore his grace, and he deferre it? | |
| How painfully his preaching spent the day! | |
| How watchfully his nights were houres to pray! | |
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| Whom taught this truth, that him for truth beleeued? | 55 |
| Though truth without his presence ne’re was knowne. | |
| With whom did he conuerse, and was ungreeued? | |
| How ill intreated euen amongst his owne! | |
| Though foxe and bird could find both hole and nest, | |
| Where found his head reposed place for rest? | 60 |
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| Pouertie he indured in the manger; | |
| Warre with the tempter in the wildernesse; | |
| Exile in Ægypt, forc’d by tirant’s danger, | |
| And on the way o’re-painfull wearinesse: | |
| In all his speech and actions contradictions, | 65 |
| Laden with wrongs, burdned with dire afflictions. | |
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| With hunger’s sword Food-giuer was acquainted, | |
| And that the stone-presenting deuill saw: | |
| At Iacob’s well with thirst he well-nie fainted, | |
| While pinching woman stood on tearmes to draw: | 70 |
| All wants and woes impos’d vpon him still, | |
| And his obedience suffred euery ill. | |
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| Traitor-led troopes by night did apprehend him, | |
| Haling him cruell to the iudgement-hall, | |
| Where all inflicted torments did offend him, | 75 |
| And mockeries to greeue his soule withall: | |
| There Iudge was iudg’d, King scorned, Priest abus’d, | |
| And of all just, the Iust vniustly vs’d. | |
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| Thence to his death with clamours, shouts, and cries, | |
| Theeues at his side, the torturing hangman by him; | 80 |
| His crosse (his burden) borne before his eies, | |
| Hart-launcing Longius the centurion nie him; | |
| His friends aloofe; inuiron’d round with foes;— | |
| Thus vnto death, soule’s loue, sweet Iesus goes. | |
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| Victoriously vpon the dunghill field | 85 |
| He manag’d combate with the roaring lion; | |
| Old serpent, death, and hell at once did yeeld, | |
| All vanquisht by triumphant Lambe of Sion; | |
| Performing in that glorious bloodie fight | |
| The euer conquest of infernall might. | 90 |
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