MArk you the floore? that square & speckled stone,
                             Which looks so firm and strong,
                                          Is Patience:

And th’ other black and grave, where with each one
                             Is checker’d all along,
                                          Humilitie:

The gentle rising, which on either hand
                             Leads to the Quire above,
                                          Is Confidence:

But the sweet cement, which in one sure band
                             Ties the whole frame, is Love
                                          And Charitie.

	Hither sometimes Sinne steals, and stains
	The marbles neat and curious veins:
But all is cleansed when the marble weeps.
	Sometimes Death, puffing at the Doore,
	Blows all the dust about the floore:
But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps.
	Blest be the Architect, whose art
	Could build so strong in a weak heart.