Poetical fragments heart-employment with God and it selfPoetical fragments heart-imployment with God and it self

Spirit. So nature breaks and casts away the shell, Where the now beauteous singing bird did dwell: The secundine that once the infant clothed, After the birth, is cast away and loathed. Thus Roses drop there sweet leaves under-foot; But the Spring show's that life was in the root. Souls are the Roots of Bodies: Christ the Head Is Root of both, and will revive the dead. Our Sun still shineth when with us it's night: When he return's, we shall shine in his light. Souls that behold and praise God with the Just, Mourn not because their bodies are but dust. Graves are but beds where flesh till morning sleep's: Or Chests where God a while our garments keeps. Our folly thinks he spoils them in the keeping; Which causeth our excessive fears and weeping: But God that doth our rising day foresee: Pities not rotting flesh so much as we. The birth of Nature was deformed by sin: The birth of Grace did our repair begin. ⟨p. 72⟩The birth of Glory at the Resurrection Finisheth all, and brings both to perfection. Why should not fruit when it is mellow fall? Why would we linger here when God doth call?

Spirit. So nature breaks and casts away the shell, Where the now beauteous singing bird did dwell: The secundine that once the infant cloath'd, After the birth, is cast away and loath'd. Thus Roses drop there sweet leaves under-foot; But the Spring shew's that life was in the root. Souls are the Roots of Bodies: Christ the Head Is Root of both, and will revive the dead. Our Sun still shineth when with us it's night: When he return's, we shall shine in his light. Souls that behold and praise God with the Just, Mourn not because their bodies are but dust. Graves are but beds where flesh till morning sleep's: Or Chests where God a while our garments keeps. Our folly thinks he spoils them in the keeping; Which causeth our excessive fears and weeping: But God that doth our rising day foresee: Pitties not rotting flesh so much as we. The birth of Nature was deform'd by sin: The birth of Grace did our repair begin. ⟨p. 72⟩The birth of Glory at the Resurrection Finisheth all, and brings both to perfection. Why should not fruit when it is mellow fall? Why would we linger here when God doth call?