He that loves thee, He that keeps And guards thee, never slumbers, never sleeps.

Even such is man, whose glory lends His life a blaze or two, and ends.

My soul, sit thou a patient looker-on; Judge not the play before the play is done: Her plot hath many changes; every day Speaks a new scene; the last act crown…

Shine Son of glory, and my sinnes are gone Like twinkling Starres before the rising Sunne.