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A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy fervant rears,

Made of a heart, and cemented with tears, Whofe parts are as thy hand did frame ;

No Workmans tool hath touch'd the fame.

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Thy power doth cut.

Wherefore each part

of my hard heart
Meets in this frame,

To praife thy name:

That if I chance to hold my peace,

These ftones to praife thee may not cease.

O let thy bleffed SACRIFICE be mine, And fan&ifie this ALTAR to be thine."

The

The Sacrifice.

OH all ye, who pass by, whofe eyes and mind
To worldly things are fharp, but to me blind;
To me, who took eyes that I might you find.

Was ever grief like mine?

5 The Princes of my people make a head Against their Maker: they do with me dead, Who cannot wifh, except I give them bread.

Was ever grief like mine?

Without me each one, who doth now me brave, 10 Had to this day been an Egyptian flave. They use that power against me, which I gave.

Was ever grief like mine? Mine own Apoftle, who the bag did bear, Though he had all I had, did not forbear 15 To fell me alfo, and to put me there.

Was ever grief, &c.

For thirty pence he did my death devise,
Who at three hundred did the ointment prize,
Not half fo fweet as my fweet facrifice.

20

Was ever grief, &c.

Therefore my foul melts, and my hearts dear treasure Drops bloud (the only beads) my words to measure. Oh let this cup pafs, if it be thy pleasure.

Was ever grief, &c.

25 Thefe drops being temper'd with a finners tears, A Balfam are for both the Hemifpheres,

Curing all wounds, but mine; all, but my fears.

Was ever grief, &c. .

Yet my Disciples fleep: I cannot gain
One hour of watching; but their drowfie brain
Comforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain.
Was ever grief like mine?

Arife, arife, they come, look how they run!
Alas! what hafte, they make to be undone !
How with their lanthorns do they seek the fun!
Was ever grief, &c.

With clubs and ftaves they feek me as a thief,
Who am the way of truth, the true relief;
Moft true to those who are my greatest grief.
Was ever grief, &c.

Judas, dost thou betray me with a kiffe?
Canft thou find hell about my lips? and miffe
Of life, juft at the gates of life and bliffe?

Was ever grief like mine?

See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands
Of faith, but fury; yet at their commands
I fuffer binding, who have loos'd their bands.
Was ever grief, &c.

All my Difciples flee; fear puts a bar

Betwixt my friends and me. They leave that ftar
That brought the wife men of the East from far,

Was ever grief, &c.

Then from one ruler to another bound

They lead me; urging, that it was not found

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What I taught: Comments would the text confound. Was ever grief, E.

The prieft and rulers all falfe witness seek

'Gainft him, who feeks not life, but is the meek

And ready Pafchal Lamb of this great week.

Was ever grief, &c.

30

Then

Then they accufe me of great blafphemy,
That I did thrust into the Deity,
Who never thought that any robbery.

Was ever grief like mine?

3 Some faid, that I the Temple to the floor
In three days ras'd, and raised as before.
why, he that built the world can do much more.
Was ever grief, c.

Then they condemn me all with that fame breath,
to Which I do give them daily; unto death.
Thus Adam my firft breathing rendereth.

Was ever grief, &c.

They bind, and lead me unto Herod: he Pilate Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree; Herod 15 But yet their friendship is my enmity.

Was ever grief,&c.

Herod and all his bands do fet me light,
Who teach all hands to war, fingers to fight,
And only am the Lord of hofts and might.

20

Was ever grief, &c.

Herod in judgment fits, while I do ftand
Examines me with a cenforious hand :
I him obey, who all things elfe command.

Was ever grief, &c.

25 The Jews accufe me with defpitefulness;
And vying malice with my gentleness,
Pick quarrels with their only happiness.

Was ever grief, dc.

Ianfwer nothing, but with patience prove
If ftony hearts will melt with gentle love.
But who does hawk at eagles with a dove?

Was ever grief like mine?

My filence rather doth augment their cry;
My dove doth back into my bofom fly,
Because the raging waters still are high.

Was ever grief like mine?

Heark how they cry aloud ftill, Crucifie:
It is not fit he live a day, they cry,
Who cannot live less than eternally.

Was ever grief, &c.

Pilate, a stranger, holdeth off; but they,
Mine own dear people, cry, Away, Away,
With noises confufed frighting the day.

Was ever grief, &c.

Yet ftill they shout, and cry, and ftop their ears,
Putting my life among their fans and fears,
And therefore with my bloud on them and theirs.

Was ever grief, &c.

See how fpite cankers things! These words aright
Ufed, and wifhed, are the whole worlds light:
But honey is their gall, brightnefs their night.

Was ever grief, &c.

They chufe a murderer, and all agree -
In him to do themselves a curtefie:
For it was their own cause who killed me.

Was ever grief, &c.

And a feditious murderer he was:

But I the Prince of peace; peace that doth pafs
All understanding, more than heav'n doth glass.

Was ever grief,&c.

Why, Cefar is their only King, not I:

He clave the ftony rock, when they were dry;

But furely not their hearts, as I well try.

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Was ever grief, &c.

30

Ah!

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