Lord, what is man? why should he coste Thee
So dear? what had his ruin lost Thee?
Lord, what is man? that thou hast ouerbought
So much a thing of nought?
Loue is too kind, I see; and can
Make but a simple merchant-man.
'Twas for such sorry merchandise,
Bold painters haue putt out his eyes.
Alas, sweet Lord, what wer't to Thee
If there were no such wormes as we?
Heau'n ne're the lesse still Heau'n would be,
Should mankind dwell
In the deep Hell:
What haue his woes to doe with Thee?
Let him goe weep
O're his own wounds;
Seraphims will not sleep
Nor spheares let fall their faithfull rounds.
Still would the youthfull spirits sing;
And still Thy spatious palace ring;
Still would those beauteous ministers of light
Burn all as bright.
And bow their flaming heads before Thee:
Still thrones and dominations would adore Thee;
Still would those euer-wakefull sons of fire
Keep warm Thy prayse
Both nights and dayes,
And teach Thy lou'd name to their noble lyre.
Let froward dust then doe it's kind;
And giue it self for sport to the proud wind.
Why should a peice of peeuish clay plead shares
In the aeternity of Thy old cares?
Why shouldst Thou bow Thy awfull brest to see
What mine own madnesses haue done with me?
Should not the king still keepe his throne
Because some desperate fool's vndone?
Or will the World's illustrious eyes
Weep for euery worm that dyes.
Will the gallant sun
E're the lesse glorious run?
Will he hang down his golden head
Or e're the sooner seek his Western bed,
Because some foolish fly
Growes wanton, and will dy?
If I were lost in misery,
What was it to Thy Heaun and Thee?
What was it to Thy pretious blood
If my foul heart call'd for a floud?
What if my faithlesse soul and I
Would needs fall in
With guilt and sin;
What did the Lamb, that He should dy?
What did the Lamb, that He should need,
When the wolf sins, Himself to bleed?
If my base lust,
Bargain'd with Death and well-beseeming dust:
Why should the white
Lamb's bosom write
The purple name
Of my sin's shame?
Why should His vnstaind brest make good
My blushes with His Own heart-blood?
O my Saviovr, make me see
How dearly Thou hast payd for me,
That lost again my life may proue,
As then in death, so now in loue.