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But what thy thorny crowne gain'd, that give mee, |
A crowne of Glory, which doth flower alwayes; |
The ends crowne our workes, but thou crown'st our ends, |
For at our ends begins our endlesse rest, |
The first last end, now zealously possest, |
With a strong sober thirst, my soule attends. |
'Tis time that heart and voyce be lifted high, |
Salvation to all that will, is nigh. |
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ANNVNTIATION. |
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2 Salvation to all that will is nigh, |
That All, which alwayes is all every where, |
Which cannot sinne, and yet all sinnes must beare, |
Which cannot die, yet cannot chuse but die, |
Loe, faithfull Virgin, yeelds himselfe to lie |
In prison, in thy wombe; and though hee there |
Can take no sinne, nor thou give, yet hee'll weare |
Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may trie. |
Ere by the spheares time was created thou |
Wast in his minde, who is thy Sonne, and Brother, |
Whom thou conceiv'st conceived; yea thou art now |
Thy Makers maker, and thy Fathers mother, |
Thou'hast light in darke, and shutt'st in little roome, |
Immensity cloysterd in thy deare wombe. |
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NATIVITIE. |
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3 Immensitie cloyster'd in thy deare wombe, |
Now leaves his welbelov'd imprisonment, |
There he hath made himselfe to his intent |
Weake enough, now into our world to come;
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[CW: But] |