Bright spark, shot from a brighter place,

Where beams surround my Saviours face,

Canst thou be any where

So well as there?

Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart,

Take a bad lodging in my heart;

For thou canst make a debter,

And make it better.

First with thy fire-work burn to dust

Folly, and worse then folly, lust:

Then with thy light refine,

And make it shine:

So disengag'd from sinne and sicknesse,

Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse,

That it may hang and move

After thy love.

Then with our trinitie of light,

Motion, and heat, let's take our flight

Unto the place where thou

Before didst bow.

Get me a standing there, and place

Among the beams, which crown the face

Of him, who dy'd to part

Sinne and my heart:

That so among the rest I may

Glitter, and curle, and winde as they:

That winding is their fashion

Of adoration.

Sure thou wilt joy, by gaining me

To flie home like a laden bee

Unto that hive of beams

And garland-streams.