Drop, Drop, Slow Tears

Phineas Fletcher, The Poems of Phineas Fletcher, pp. 260-261:

An Hymne (originally published in Poetical Miscellanies, 1633)

Drop, drop, slow tears,
and bathe Those beauteous feet,
Which brought from heav'n
the news and Prince of peace:

Cease not, wet eyes,
His mercies to intreat;
To crie for vengeance
sinne doth never cease:

In your deep floods
drown all my faults and fears;
Nor let His eye
see sinne, but through my tears.

Upon Mr. Perkins His Printed Sermons

As we wait for the republication of the Works of William Perkins by Reformation Heritage Books, here for consideration is a poetic tribute by 17th century English poet Phineas Fletcher.

Phineas Fletcher, The Poems of Phineas Fletcher, pp. 263-264:

Upon Mr. Perkins His Printed Sermons

Perkins -- our wonder -- living, though long dead,
In this white paper, as a winding-sheet,
this velome lies enveloped:
Yet still he lives, guiding the erring feet,
Speaking now to our eyes, though buried.
If once so well, much better now he teacheth.
Who will not heare, when a live-dead man preacheth?

The Divine Lover

Phineas Fletcher, The Divine Lover:

The Divine Lover

I

Me Lord? can'st thou mispend
One word, misplace one look on me?
Call'st me thy Love, thy Friend?
Can this poor soul the object be
Of these love-glances, those life-kindling eyes?
What? I the Centre of thy arms embraces?
Of all thy labour I the prize?
Love never mocks, Truth never lies.
Oh how I quake: Hope fear, fear hope displaces:
I would, but cannot hope: such wondrous love amazes.

II

See, I am black as night,
See I am darkness: dark as hell.
Lord thou more fair than light;
Heav'ns Sun thy Shadow; can Sunns dwell
With Shades? 'twixt light, and darkness what commerce?
True: thou art darkness, I thy Light: my ray
Thy mists, and hellish foggs shall pierce.
With me, black soul, with me converse.
I make the foul December flowry May,
Turn thou thy night to me: I'le turn thy night to day.

III

See Lord, see I am dead.
Tomb'd in my self: my self my grave
A drudge: so born, so bred:
My self even to my self a slave.
Thou Freedom, Life: can Life, and Liberty
Love bondage, death? Thy Freedom I: I tyed
To loose thy bonds: be bound to me:
My Yoke shall ease, my bonds shall free.
Dead soul, thy Spring of life, my dying side:
There dye with me to live: to live in thee I dyed.