LOrd, how can man preach thy eternall word?
                  He is a brittle crazie glasse:
Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford
                  This glorious and transcendent place,
                  To be a window, through thy grace.

But when thou dost anneal in glasse thy storie,
                  Making thy life to shine within
The holy Preachers; then the light and glorie
                  More rev’rend grows, & more doth win:
                  Which else shows watrish, bleak, & thin.

Doctrine and life, colours and light, in one
                  When they combine and mingle, bring
A strong regard and aw: but speech alone
                  Doth vanish like a flaring thing,
                  And in the eare, not conscience ring.