Ye sacred Limbs,

A richer Blazon I will lay

On you, than first I found:

That, like Celestial Kings,

Ye might with Ornaments of Joy

Be always crown'd.

A deep Vermilion on a Red,

On that a Scarlet, I will lay;

With Gold I'll crown your Head,

Which like the Sun shall ray:

With Robes of Glory and Delight

I'll make you bright.

Mistake me not: I do not mean to bring

New Robes, but to display the thing;

Nor paint, nor cloath, nor crown, nor add a Ray;

But glorify by taking all away.

The Naked Things

Are most sublime, and brightest shew,

When they alone are seen:

Mens Hands than Angels Wings

Are truer Wealth, tho here below;

For those but seem.

Their Worth they then do best reveal

When we all Metaphors remov;

For, Metaphors conceal,

And only Vapors prov.

They best are blazon'd when we see

Th' Anatomy,

Survey the Skin, cut up the Flesh, the Veins

Unfold; the Glory there remains:

The Muscles, Fibres, Arteries, and Bones,

Are better far than Artificial Stones.

Shall I not then

Delight in this most Sacred Treasure,

Which my Great Father gave,

Far more than other men

Delight in Plate? Since these do pleasure

And make us brave!

Much braver than the Pearl and Gold

That glitter on a Lady's Neck.

The Rubies we behold,

The Diamonds that deck

The Hands of Queens, compar'd unto

The Limbs we view;

The whitest Lillies, blushing Roses, are

Less Ornaments to those that wear

The same, than are the Hands, and Lips, and Eys

Of them who those false Ornaments so prize.

Let Verity

Be thy Delight: Let me esteem

Tru Wealth far more than Toys:

Let Sacred Riches be,

While the fictitious only seem,

My Reall Joys:

For Golden Chains and Bracelets are

But gilded Manacles, wherby

Old Satan doth ensnare,

Allure, bewitch the Ey.

Thy Gifts, O God, alone I'll prize,

My Tongue, my Eys,

My Cheeks, my Lips, mine Ears, my Hands, my Feet;

Their Harmony is far more sweet,

Their Beauty tru. And these, in all my Ways,

Shall be the Themes and Organs of thy Prais.