Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DULL DEVOTION, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT



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DULL DEVOTION, by            
First Line: Me thought heavn calld me, when I heard ye bell
Last Line: And so in heavn aforehand dwell.
Subject(s): Death; God; Heaven; Prayer; Dead, The; Paradise


ME thought Heavn calld Me, when I heard ye Bell;
And I was ready to obey:
The plain and surest path I knew full well,
It was our Common Chappell way.

God has his probatorie Heavn below,
An easy & familiar Sphear:
An Heavn, whose Gate is broad, yt All might flow
In, & for that above prepare.

Arrived there, although ye outward face
Of what appear'd was plain & milde,
Dreadfull I found ye Mildenesse of ye place
Being wth God & Angels filld.

Falln on my knees, I had no lesse then leave
To supplicate My God & King.
Alas, a thousand wants my Soule did greive,
I had to ask Him many a Thing.

Up went my hands & Eyes: so should my Heart,
And so a little while it did:
But as my craving Tongue performed her part,
I knew not how, my Mind was fled.

I was Departed, & interred lay
Wth in my selfe as in a Grave:
This rotten heap of my owne Dust & Clay
To Me a Tomb, & Carkase gave.

Or like at least some Image of ye Dead
Set there to make his Memorie live.
Starke-cold was My Devotion, & tis said
A Church this onely Life can give.

And is not this a strange Idolatry
To worship God wth Images,
And Puppit-Service; as if Mighty Hee
Were some such heedlesse Thing as These?

Shall Men mock God, & think to move his Love,
And not his furie, when we pray?
What hopes those Words should e'r be heard above,
Which our selves hear not as we say?

When unto Man I with requests doe goe,
My mind doth wth my Tongue beare part.
I serve him onely wth lip-homage, who
Created both my Tongue & Heart.

Forgive Me, Lord; my Prayers wch are not mine,
That Froth wch on my lips doth bubble;
That Aire wch I misuse, that Name of Thine,
Wch I so oft in vain redouble.

Faine would I pray my Prayers, & not be
Abroad, when heer I Thee intreat.
Tame my wild Soule, & tie it close to Thee
In whom my Hope & Trust is set.

So shall this place be like its Name to Me,
And as an Angels Voice, ye Bell.
Heer shall I practise My Felicitie,
And so in Heavn aforehand dwell.





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