A96103:169
The holy longing
The holy longing: or, The saints desire to be with Christ: delivered in a sermon at Al-hallows Lombard-street, Aug. 24. 1658. At the funeral of Mr. Jacob Stock. / By Thomas Watson minister of Stephens Walbrook in the city of London.The holy longing: or, The saints desire to be with Christ: delivered in a sermon at Al-hallows Lumbard-street, Aug. 24. 1658. At the funeral of Mr. Jacob Stock. / By Thomas Watson minister of Stephens Walbrook in the city of London.
London: printed by E.M. for Ralph Smith, 1659
Title page typeset from the transcription.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
FA. —What! nought but weep, sad Muse? Up, dry thine eyes, Hang head no more, see how he winged flies Among the Cherubs; once I saw him dwell Within the Microcosm of a shell: Now perched in heaven; Come, let's up and look him, A fever hatched him, then the Angels took him.
FA. —What! nought but weep, sad Muse? Up, dry thine eyes, Hang head no more, see how he winged flies Among the Cherubs; once I saw him dwell Within the Microcosme of a shell: Now perch't in heaven; Come, let's up and look him, A feaver hatch't him, then the Angels took him.
Mu. —Ah! I'm undone, He was my Benjamin, my only son, Idolatry I would not recontrive, Or else I'd call him Moses Redivive For skill in Egypts Arts; Methinks I see Their Hieroglyphics in Logometrie. Great Livy in small skins, or Philadelph The old worlds wonder piled up in a shelf. All Euclid's lines concentered in a point, And Ptolemy's broken Spheres right set in joint.
Mu. —Ah! I'me undone, He was my Benjamin, my only son, Idolatry I would not recontrive, Or else I'de call him Moses Redivive For skill in Egypts Arts; Methinks I see Their Hieroglicks in Logometrie. Great Livye in small skins, or Philadelph The old worlds wonder pi'ld up in a shelf. All Euclids lines concentred in a point, And Ptol'mys broken Sphears right set in joynt.
Fa. —Peace babbling Muse, dost thou think such man Can grasped be within thy narrow span, Or fully measured with thy Pygmies feet, 'Bout whom the widest Orbs could never meet? His soul's a pledge in Goshen, spare your groans, Joseph will shortly send for Jacobs bones.
Fa. —Peace babling Muse, dost thou think such man Can grasped be within thy narrow span, Or fully measur'd with thy Pigmies feet, 'Bout whom the widest Orbs could never meet? His soul's a pledge in Goshen, spare your grones, Joseph will shortly send for Jacobs bones.