| |
| THE THIRSTIE 1 soule, that fainteth in the way, | |
| Or hunger-bit, for heauenly foode doth long; | |
| The wearied hart, that panteth all the way, | |
| Oppressed with feares, and homebread griefs among; | |
| The blinded eye, that hunts the shining ray, | 5 |
| Or minde enthralde through Satan’s wily wrong; | |
| Let hither fare for comfort in their neede: | |
| For smothered flames a greater fire will breede. | |
| |
| Here siluer streames shall quench thy boyling heat, | |
| And hony dewes thy hungrie stomache fill: | 10 |
| Heere sweete repose with comfort shall intreate | |
| Thy wounded breast to cure with busy skill: | |
| Hence fetch thy ransome, howsoeuer great; | |
| A mine of treasures are in this faire hill; | |
| From whose hye top thy scaled eies may see | 15 |
| A glorious light that shall enlighten thee. | |
| |
| The streames are bloud, the dew is bread from heauen; | |
| The rest and comfort are cœlestiall ioyes; | |
| The ransome from the crosse was freely giuen; | |
| The light is faith, which darknes all destroyes. | 20 |
| Thrise happy man, that guides his steps so euen, | |
| As his pure light no gloomy darke annoyes: | |
| His ransom’d soule æternal ioyes shall win, | |
| When timelye death shall blessed life begin. | |
