I drown, my Lord. What though the Streame I'm in Rosewater bee, Or Ocean to its brinkes Of Aqua Vitae where the Ship doth swim? The Surges drown the Soul, oreflowd, that sinks. A Sea of Liquid gold with rocks of pearle May drownd as well as Neptune's Fishy Well. Thy Fulness, Lord, my Filberd cannot hold. How should an acorn bowle the Sea lade dry? A Red rose leafe the Suns bright bulk up fold? Or halfe an Ants egge Canopy the Sky? The world play in a Sneale horn Hide, and Seek May, ere my thimble can thy fulness meete. All fulness is in thee my Lord, and Christ. The fulness of all Excellence is thine. All's palac'de in thy person, and bespic'de. All Kinds, and Quantities of't in thee shine. The Fulness of the Godhead in respect Unto the Manhood's in thy person kept. Hence all the Properties, that Godhead hath, And all their Godhead Operations brave, Which are the Fulness Godhead forth display'th, Thy person for their Temple ever have. All always as transcendent Stones bright, set, Encabin'd are in thee their Cabbinet. Oh! what a Lord and Lordship's here my Lord? How doth thy Fulness, fill thy Hall with Shine? Some Rayes thereof my Cottage now afford And let these golden rayes its inside line. Thy Fulness all, or none at all, Will goe Together, and in part will never flow. All, Lord, or None at all! this makes mee dread. All is so Good, and None at all so bad. All puts faith to't: but none at all strikes dead. I'le hope for all, lest none at all makes sad. Hold up this hope. Lord, then this hope shall sing Thy praises sweetly, spite of feares Sad Sting. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VISIONS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF ALBION by WILLIAM BLAKE THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS; OR, THE BRITISH SOLDIER IN CHINA by FRANCIS HASTINGS CHARLES DOYLE TO LIVE MERRILY AND TO TRUST TO GOOD VERSES by ROBERT HERRICK THE EVE OF BANNOCKBURN by JOHN BARBOUR ON A MINIATURE by HENRY AUGUSTIN BEERS HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 29 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |