Men may delighted be with Springs,

(While Trees and Herbs their Senses pleas,)

Reap a rich Harvest from the Earth and Seas;

May think their Members things

Of earthly Worth at least, if not divine;

And sing, becaus the Sun doth for them shine.

But can the Angels take Delight

To see such Faces here beneath?

Or can Perfumes from sordid Dunghills breath?

Or is the World a Sight

Worthy of them? Then may we Mortals be

Joint-Heirs with them of wide Eternity.

Ev'n Holy Angels may com down

To walk on Earth, and find Delights

That feed and pleas, ev'n here, their Appetites;

Our Joys compose a Crown

For them. Men in God's Tabernacle may be,

Where Palm-Trees with the Cherubs mix'd we see.

Mens Senses are indeed the Gems;

Their Praises the most sweet Perfumes;

Their God-like Souls do fill the hev'nly Rooms

Where Angels walk: the Pens

And Eys of those blest Spirits are employ'd

To Note our Virtues, wherwith they are joy'd.

The Wonders that our God hath don;

The Glory of His Attributes,

Like dangling Apples, or much better Fruits,

Angelick Joys becom:

They see His Wisdom and His Lov doth flow

Like Myrrh or Incense, even here below.

And Shall not We those Joys possess

Which God for Man did chiefly make?

The Angels have them only for Our sake!

And yet, They do confess

His Glory here on Earth to be sublime,

His God-head in His Works appears Divine.