|
| .7. |
| Salute ye Last & everlasting day, [f. 39v] |
| Ioye at th'vprising of this Sun, & Sonne |
| Yea whose true teares, or tribulatione |
| Hath purely wash'd or burnt yr drossy clay. |
| Behold ye highest parting hence away |
| Lightens ye dark clowds wch he treads vpone |
| Nor doth he by ascending show alone |
| But first he, & he first enters the way. |
| Oh strong Ramme wch hast batterd heauen for mee, |
| Milde Lambe wch wt thy blood hast markd the pathe, |
| Bright Torche wch shin'st yt I thy wayes may see, |
| Oh wth thyne owne blood quenche thyne own iust wrathe; |
| And yf thy holy Spiritt my Muse did rayse |
| Daingne at my hands this crown of prayer & prayse. |