¶ The Starre.
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 disengagd 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, lets 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 dyd 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.