But oh! a glorious hand from glory came

Guarded with Angells, soon did Crop this flowere

Which almost tore the root up of the same

At that unlookt for, Dolesome, darksome houre.

In Pray’re to Christ perfum’de it did ascend,

And Angells bright did it to heaven tend.

——

But pausing on’t, this sweet perfum’d my thought,
Christ would in Glory have a Flowre, Choice, Prime,

And having Choice, chose this my branch forth brought.

Lord, take’t. I thanke thee, thou takst ought of mine,

It is my pledg in glory, part of mee

Is now in it, Lord, glorifi’de with thee…

——

Griefe o’re doth flow: and nature fault would finde

Were not thy Will, my Spell, Charm, Joy, and Gem:

That as I said, I say, take, Lord, they’re thine.

I piecemeale pass to Glory bright in them.

In joy, may I sweet Flowers for Glory breed,

Whether thou getst them green, or lets them seed.