Silence

A quiet silent person may possessAll that is great or high in Blessedness.The inward work is the supreme: for allThe other were occasioned by the fall.A man that seemeth idle to the viewOf others, may the greatest business do.Those acts which Adam in his innocencePerformed, carry all the excellence.Those outward busy acts he knew not, wereBut meaner matters of a lower sphere.Building of churches, giving to the poor,In dust and ashes lying on the floor,Administering of justice, preaching peace,Ploughing and toiling for a forct increase,With visiting the sick, or governingThe rude and ignorant: this was a thingAs then unknown. For neither ignoranceNor poverty, nor sickness did advanceTheir banner in the world, till sin came in.Those therefore were occasioned all by sin.The first and only work he had to do,Was in himself to feel his bliss, to viewHis sacred treasures, to admire, rejoice,Sing praises with a sweet and heavenly voice,See, prize, give hourly thanks within, and love,Which is the high and only work aboveThem all. And this at first was mine; these wereMy exercises of the highest sphere.To see, approve, take pleasure, and rejoiceWithin, is better than an empty voice.No melody in words can equal that;The sweetest organ, lute, or harp is flatAnd dull, compared thereto. And O that stillI might admire my Father's love and skill!This is to honour, worship, and adore,This is to love Him: nay, it is far more,It is to enjoy Him, and to imitateThe life and glory of His high Estate.'Tis to receive with holy reverence,To understand His gifts, and with a senseOf pure devotion and humility,To prize His works, His Love to magnify.O happy ignorance of other thingsWhich made me present with that King of Kings!And like Him too! All spirit, life, and power,All love and joy, in His Eternal Bower,A world of innocence as then was mine,In which the joys of Paradise did shine:And while I was not here I was in Heaven,Not resting one, but every, day in seven,For ever minding with a lively sense,The universe in all its excellence.No other thoughts did intervene, to cloy,Divert, extinguish, or eclipse my joy,No other customs, new-found wants, or dreamsInvented here polluted my pure streams,No aloes or drugs, no wormwood starWas seen to fall into the sea from far;No rotten soul, did like an apple nearMy soul approach. There's no contagion here.An unperceived donor gave all pleasures,There nothing was but I, and all my treasures.In that fair world, one only was the Friend,One golden stream, one spring, one only end.There only one did sacrifice and singTo only one Eternal Heavenly King.The union was so strait between them two,That all was either's which my soul could view:His gifts and my possessions, both our treasures;He mine, and I the ocean of His pleasures.He was an ocean of delights from WhomThe living springs and golden streams did come:My bosom was an ocean into whichThey all did run. And me they did enrich.A vast and infinite capacity,Did make my bosom like the Deity,In whose mysterious and celestial mindAll ages and all worlds together shin'd,Who tho' He nothing said did always reign,And in Himself Eternity contain.The world was more in me, than I in it.The King of Glory in my soul did sit,And to Himself in me he always gaveAll that He takes delight to see me have,For so my spirit was an endless Sphere,Like God Himself, and Heaven, and Earth was there.