Ver. Doft thou to ruling ftars difpenfe
What virtue, they diffufe,

Such feafons here to influence,
As thou, forfooth, fhalt chufe?

SONG LXXXII.

Queft. 13. Concerning the Formation and Renovation
of the Soul, or intellectual Spirit, in Man.
Job xxxviii. 36.

WHO knowledge did to man impart,

That ray of light divine?

Who did with wifdom fill his heart?
Was this thy work, or mine?
To man a noble foul is giv'n
With fhining pow'r fupply'd ;
More bright than all the ftars of heav'n,
To angels fair ally'd.

The fun above the light doth bring,
Though feen in air below;
From light divine the foul doth fpring,
Her pow'rs in flesh to fhow.

The God of nature did impart

This intellectual mind;

The God of grace renews the heart,
With light and fight refin'd.

SONG LXXXIII.

[A Digreffion concerning the SOUL'S SPIRITUALITY
and its NATURE; quite diftinct from the Body and
its fenfes. A number of Proofs and Demonftrations
bereof *.

MAN's foul, while in the flesh he lives,
Her pow'r doth exercise

Within the body, yet furvives
Although the body dies.

She's by herself an active thing,

That hath a working might;

Which not from fenfe's pow'r doth fpring,
Nor yet from humour's fpright.

See Sir JOHN DAVIES's Poem on this Subject.

Were the the bodies quality,
She might be fick and blind;
But in decaying flesh we fee
A perfect healthy mind.

When in th' effects the caufe fhe fees,
From fruits the roots doth know;
Her views not from her body's eyes,
But from her own do flow.

When fwifter than the light'nings fly,
Her thoughts from east to west,
And round the centre, 'bove the sky,
Move, though the body reft:
When first her works fhe forms within,
And fees her perfect end,
Ere the to act at all begin;
No aid can fenfes lend.

When without hands fhe builds up tow'rs,
And without feet doth run;

Sees without eyes, by her own pow'rs
Thefe miracles are done.

When the on vice and virtue thinks,
Confiders general things;

And from known truths, in divers links,
A right conclufion brings:
Thefe actions by herfelf alone
Retir'd fhe does fulfil;

Of all her body's organs none
Can aid her wit or will.
Yet fhe in flesh imprifon'd lies,
Muft through its windows look,
Her pow'rs of fenfe to exercise,

And read the world's great book. Though fcarce the foul can judge of ought, But what the fenfe home brings;

Yet judging pow'rs, and what's thus brought,
Are vastly diff'rent things.

Our eyes can nought but colours fee,

Yet colours give not fight;"

The foul, when feen her objects be,
Views them by her own light."

Workmen, on ftuff their skill to fhow,
The stuff ne'er gave them fkill;
No more, from objects feen, can flow
Soul pow'rs to act or will.

Yea, oft to check the fenfe fhe's fure,

Nor when it errs agrees;
But croffes it; for, with a pow'r,
Above the fenfe fhe fees.

No fenfe the holy joys conceives
Which in her clofets be;
The ravifh'd foul her fenfes leaves,
And hath her motions free.
Her diftinct nature fhines in this,
That her choice works alone
She works this nature's touch-ftone is,
Things by their works are known.
But why the foul and fenfe divide,
When fenfe is but a pow'r,
The foul extends on ev'ry fide,

Her objects to explore?

Mere fenfe cannot one thought command;

For eyes and ears perceive

No more than glaffes understand,

What faces they receive.

Souls guide the fight; for, chance but we
To fix our thoughts elsewhere;
Our eyes, though open, cannot see,
But, like a ftatue, ftare.

And, if one pow'r, which fenfes bound,
Did not both hear and fee;

Then, moft confus'd, our fight and found
Would always double be.

The foul then fenfe's pow'r contains,
Within a greater pow'r,

Which still employs the fenfe's pains,

But rules in her own bow'r,

Heav'n in man's foul these pow'rs did grave,

Ev'n her's alone to be;

On earth no other creatures have
These heav'nly pow'rs but we.]

SONG LXXXIV.

Queft. 14. About staying the clouds, or Stopping the
Rain. Job xxxviii. 37, 38.

Ver. WHO can the clouds vaft number tell,
37 That fpread from pole to pole?
Who can their falling rain repel,
When pouring out their bowl?

38 When rain enough hath drench'd the clay,
And clos'd the cleaving clods,

Whofe hand can heav'n's full bottle ftay?
Tell; is it thine, or God's?

SONG LXXXV.

Queft. 15. Concerning Provifion for the Lions and
Ravens, Job xxxviii. 39, 40, 41.

39 WILD bealls in forefts, and in fens,
Whole proper care are they?

40 The lions old that lurk in dens, The young that wait their prey?

41 Who feeds the ravens and their brood, When, unto God they cry,

I

And wander far for lack of food?
Say; is it you, or I?

Queft. 16. About the wild Goats and the Hinds.

Job xxxix. 1-4.

Now'st thou the time wild goats bring forth
The increase of their flock?

The time when they commit their birth

Unto the flinty rock?

2 Canft thou declare the months how long
The pregnant hinds complete?

And when to calve, or caft their young,
They to the brakes retreat?

3 Ia pangs they bow themfelves, the wood
Affords them no relief?·

Yet there, at once, they both exclude
Their offspring and their grief.

Ver. Their calves go feek their meat, and find,
4 In ranging hill and wood,

Their fatning corn; nor to the hind
Return for want of food.

SONG LXXXVII.

Queft. 17 Concerning the wild Afs. Job xxxix. 5,—8. 5 WHO did to the wild afs's heart,

That knows no bit or rein,

A fenfe of liberty impart,

All drivers to difdain?

6 The tame afs is to labour bound,
But ftill the wild is free:
His houfe I made the defart round,
His home the barren lee.

7 He fcorns the city's multitude,
Refuses to be driven;

8 The range of mountains for his food,
And piles of grass are given.

With freedom blefs'd he roves apace,
And ne'er the defart quits,
But mocks the tame and ftupid afs,
That his bafe neck fubmits.

SONG LXXXVIII.

Queft. 18 Concerning what is called the Unicorn.
Job xxxix. 9,-12.

9 WILL th' unicorn, or savage bull,
The bealt of pow'r and pride,

Tame to thy fervice, bow his will,
Or by the crib abide?

10 Will he thy yoke or labour bear,
And meekly land in awe?

Or with the plow thy furrows tear,
On vales thy harrows draw?

11 Because in frength this rural king
Is mighty, wilt thou yield,

12 That he be trufted home to bring Thy harveft from the field?