To the Name Above Every Name, the Name of Iesvs: A Hymn

In Vnitate Devs EstNumisma Vrbani 6.

I sing the name which none can sayBut touch't with an interiour ray:The name of our new peace; our good:Our blisse: and supernaturall blood:The name of all our liues and loues.Hearken, and help, ye holy doues!The high-born brood of Day; you brightCandidates of blissefull light,The heirs elect of Loue, whose names belongVnto the euerlasting life of song;All ye wise sovles, who in the wealthy brestOf this vnbounded name, build your warm nest.Awake, my glory, Sovl (if such thou be,And that fair word at all referr to thee),Awake and sing,And be all wing;Bring hither thy whole self; and let me seeWhat of thy parent Heavn yet speakes in thee.O thou art pooreOf noble powres, I see,And full of nothing else but empty me:Narrow, and low, and infinitely lesseThen this great morning's mighty busynes.One little world or two(Alas) will neuer doe;We must haue store.Goe and requestGreat Natvre for the key of her huge chestOf Heauns, the self-inuoluing sett of sphears(Which dull mortality more feeles then heares).Then rouse the nestOf nimble Art, and trauerse roundThe aiery shop of soul-appeasing sound:And beat a summons in the sameAll-soueraign name,To warn each seuerall kindAnd shape of sweetnes, be they suchAs sigh with supple windOr answer artfull touch;That they conuene and come awayTo wait at the loue-crowned doores of this illustrious day. loveShall we dare this, my Soul? we'l doe't and bringNo other note for't, but the name we sing.Wake lvte and harp, and euery sweet-lipp't thingThat talkes with tunefull string;Start into life, and leap with meInto a hasty fitt-tun'd harmony.Nor must you think it muchT' obey my bolder touch;I haue authority in Love's name to take you,And to the worke of Loue this morning wake you.Wake, in the nameOf Him Who neuer sleeps, all things that are,Or, what's the same,Are musicall;Answer my callAnd come along;Help me to meditate mine immortal song.Come, ye soft ministers of sweet sad mirth,Bring all your houshold stuffe of Heaun on earth;O you, my Soul's most certain wings,Complaining pipes, and prattling strings,Bring all the storeOf sweets you haue; and murmur that you haue no more.Come, ne're to part,Nature and Art!Come; and come strong,To the conspiracy of our spatious song.Bring all the powres of praise,Your prouinces of well-vnited worlds can raise;Bring all your lvtes and harps of Heavn and Earth;Whatere cooperates to the common mirthe:Vessells of vocall ioyes,Or you, more noble architects of intellectuall noise,Cymballs of Heau'n, or humane sphears,Solliciters of sovles or eares;And when you are come, with allThat you can bring or we can call:O may you fixFor euer here, and mixYour selues into the longAnd euerlasting series of a deathlesse song;Mix all your many worlds aboue,And loose them into one of loue.Chear thee my heart!For thou too hast thy partAnd place in the Great ThrongOf this vnbounded all-imbracing song.Powres of my soul, be proud!And speake lowdTo all the dear-bought Nations, this redeeming Name,And in the wealth of one rich word, proclaimNew similes to Nature. May it be no wrongBlest Heauns, to you and your superiour song,That we, dark sons of dust and sorrow,A while dare borrowThe name of your dilights, and our desires,And fitt it to so farr inferior lyres.Our murmurs haue their musick too,Ye mighty Orbes, as well as you;Nor yeilds the noblest nestOf warbling Seraphim to the eares of Loue,A choicer lesson then the ioyfull brestOf a poor panting turtle-doue.And we, low wormes, haue leaue to doeThe same bright busynes (ye Third Heavens) with you.Gentle spirits, doe not complain!We will haue careTo keep it fair,And send it back to you again.Come, louely Name! Appeare from forth the brightRegions of peacefull light;Look from Thine Own illustrious home,Fair King of names, and come:Leaue all Thy natiue glories in their gorgeous nest,And giue Thy Self a while the gracious GuestOf humble soules, that seek to findThe hidden sweetsWhich man's heart meetsWhen Thou art Master of the mind.Come louely Name; Life of our hope!Lo, we hold our hearts wide ope!Vnlock Thy cabinet of Day,Dearest Sweet, and come away.Lo, how the thirsty LandsGasp for Thy golden showres! with long-stretcht handsLo, how the laboring EarthThat hopes to beAll Heauen by Thee,Leapes at Thy birth!The' attending World, to wait Thy rise,First turn'd to eyes;And then, not knowing what to doe,Turn'd them to teares, and spent them too.Come royall Name! and pay the expenceOf all this pretious patience;O come awayAnd kill the death of this delay!O, see so many worlds of barren yearesMelted and measur'd out in seas of teares:O, see the weary liddes of wakefull Hope(Love's eastern windowes) all wide opeWith curtains drawn,To catch the day-break of Thy dawn.O, dawn at last, long-lookt for Day!Take Thine own wings, and come away.Lo, where aloft it comes! It comes, amongThe conduct of adoring spirits, that throngLike diligent bees, and swarm about it.O, they are wise,And know what sweetes are suck't from out it:It is the hiue,By which they thriue,Where all their hoard of hony lyes.Lo, where it comes, vpon the snowy Dove'sSoft back; and brings a bosom big with loues:Welcome to our dark world, Thou womb of Day!Vnfold Thy fair conceptions, and displayThe birth of our bright ioyes, O Thou compactedBody of blessings: Spirit of soules extracted!O, dissipate Thy spicy powres,(Cloud of condensed sweets) and break vpon vsIn balmy showrs!O, fill our senses, and take from vs all force of soprophane a fallacy,To think ought sweet but that which smells of Thee!Fair, flowry Name, in none but TheeAnd Thy nectareall fragrancy,Hourly there meetesAn vniuersall synod of all sweets;By whom it is defined thus,That no perfumeFor euer shall presumeTo passe for odoriferous,But such alone whose sacred pedigreeCan proue itself some kin (sweet Name!) to Thee.Sweet Name, in Thy each syllableA thousand blest Arabias dwell;A thousand hills of frankincense,Mountains of myrrh, and beds of spicesAnd ten thousand paradises,The soul that tasts Thee takes from thence.How many vnknown worlds there areOf comforts, which Thou hast in keeping!How many thousand mercyes thereIn Pitty's soft lap ly a-sleeping!Happy he who has the artTo awake them,And to take themHome, and lodge them in his heart.O, that it were as it was wont to be!When Thy old freinds of fire, all full of Thee,Fought against frowns with smiles; gaue glorious chaseTo persecutions; and against the faceOf Death and feircest dangers, durst with braueAnd sober pace, march on to meet A GRAVE.On their bold brests, about the world they bore Thee,And to the teeth of Hell stood vp to teach Thee;In center of their inmost soules, they wore Thee,Where rackes and torments striu'd, in vain, to reach Thee.Little, alas, thought theyWho tore the fair brests of Thy freinds,Their fury but made wayFor Thee, and seru'd them in Thy glorious ends.What did their weapons but with wider poresInlarge Thy flaming-brested louers,More freely to transpireThat impatient fire,The heart that hides Thee hardly couers?What did their weapons but sett wide the dooresFor Thee? fair, purple doores, of Loue's deuising;The ruby windowes which inricht the EastOf Thy so oft-repeated rising!Each wound of theirs was Thy new morning,And reinthron'd Thee in Thy rosy nest,With blush of Thine Own blood Thy day adorning:It was the witt of Loue oreflowd the boundsOf Wrath, and made Thee way through all those wovnds.Wellcome, dear, all-adored Name!For sure there is no kneeThat knowes not Thee:Or, if there be such sonns of shame,Alas! what will they doeWhen stubborn rocks shall bowAnd hills hang down their heaun-saluting headsTo seek for humble bedsOf dust, where in the bashfull shades of NightNext to their own low Nothing, they may ly,And couch before the dazeling light of Thy dread majesty.They that by Loue's mild dictate nowWill not adore Thee,Shall then, with just confusion bowAnd break before Thee.