. Emblems, divine and moral . ; Or give me faith ; and, by the eye of grace, 1 shall behold thee, though not face to face. 296 EMBLEMS. BOOK v. S. August, in Psal. xxxix. Who created all things, is better than all things:who beautified all things, is more beautiful than allthings : who made strength, is stronger than all things:who made great things, is greater than all things :whatsoever thou lovest, he is that to thee : learn tolove the workman in his work, the Creator in hiscreature : let not that which was made by him pos-sess thee, lest thou lose him by whom thyself wasmade. S. August. Me
. Emblems, divine and moral . ; Or give me faith ; and, by the eye of grace, 1 shall behold thee, though not face to face. 296 EMBLEMS. BOOK v. S. August, in Psal. xxxix. Who created all things, is better than all things:who beautified all things, is more beautiful than allthings : who made strength, is stronger than all things:who made great things, is greater than all things :whatsoever thou lovest, he is that to thee : learn tolove the workman in his work, the Creator in hiscreature : let not that which was made by him pos-sess thee, lest thou lose him by whom thyself wasmade. S. August. Med. Cap. xxxvii. 0 thou most sweet, most gracious, most amiable,most fair, when shall I see thee ? when shall I besatisfied with thy beauty ? when wilt thou lead mefrom this dark dungeon, that I may confess thy name 1 Epig. art thou shaded, in this veil of thy curtain flesh ? Thou seest no what thy pride doth challenge as her own ;Thy flesh is high : Soul, take this curtain down. EMBLEMS. 297 PSALM LV. 6. 0 that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fit/away, and he at rest! A ND am I sworn a dunghill-slave for ever To earths base drudgry ? Shall I never findA night of rest 1 Shall my indentures neverBe cancelld ? Did injurious nature bind 298 EMBLEMS. BOOK v. My soul earths prentice, with no clause to leave her?No day of freedom ? Must I ever grind ?0 that I had the pinions of a dove,That I might quit my bands, and soar above, And pour my just complaints before the great Jehove ! How happy are the doves, that have the powr, Wheneer they please, to spread their airy wings !Or cloud-dividing eagles, that can towr Above the scent of these inferior things !How happy is the lark, that evry hour Leaves earth, and then for joy mounts up and sings !Had my dull soul but wings as well as I would spring from earth, and clip away,As wise Astrsea did, and scorn this ball of clay ! 0 how my soul would spurn this ball of clay, And loathe the dai
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