NO Days, nor Weeks, must I Account, but by The Revolutions of LOVE: LOVE is the Sunn Whose Flame alone In My Soules loyal Orb shall move. 2 Rebellious is each Houre Which doth not poure The homage of its highest Praise In a full Stream On LOVES dear Name; That Name, wch Heavn with Bliss arrays. 3 LOVE is my King, & I Hold onely by His Grace's royal Charter: He Right nobly gave Me all I have; And, what is more, gave Me to Me. 4 Me! What am I! vile I! LOVE scorneth by So poor a Gift, to bound his Grace: Himself on Me Illustrious He By his brave Self bestowed was. 5 And is not my poor Time All due to Him? To bounteous Him, who offers Me The soverain treasures, And boundless pleasures Of his supreem Eternitie? 6 Due, more then due it is: And I by his Exploits of Grace henceforth will raise My Soule to frame A better Name For all my consecrated Days. 7 No other Gods I'l seek To fill my Week: LOVE, nothing else but LOVE alone, Is of extent Sufficient To swell my Weeks dimension. 8 From Morn to Evening I The History Of LOVE through all my houres will spread; That I may prove My Trade is LOVE, With LOVE I'l Rise, & Goe to bed. 9 From LOVE'S poor Cratch, my Race I'l gin, & trace His noble Acts, untill I see Him mounted on His erned Throne Of Glorie's bright Sublimitie. 10 And when I thus have brought My Week about; I'l to his Cratch again, & move With restless Rest From East to West In none but in the Sphear of LOVE. 11 So I in Him, & He Deliciouslie Shall move in Me: So shall not I, Though heer I breathe On Earth beneath, Think Heavn above my head doth ly. |