The Gardin

THE Gardins quit with me : as yesterday
I walked in that, to day that walks in me ;
Through all my memorie
It sweetly wanders, & has found a way
To make me honestly possess
What still Anothers is.

Yet this Gains dainty sence doth gall my Minde
With the remembrance of a bitter Loss.
Alas, how odd & cross
Are earths Delights, in which the Soule can finde
No Honey, but withall some Sting
To check the pleasing thing !

For now I'm hanted with the thought of that
Heavn-planted Gardin, where felicitie
Flourishd on every Tree.
Lost, lost it is ; for at the guarded gate
A flaming Sword forbiddeth Sin
(That's I,) to enter in.

O Paradise ! when I was turned out
Hadst thou but kept the Serpent still within,
My banishment had been
Less sad & dangerous : but round about
This wide world runneth rageing He
To banish me from me :

I feel that through my soule he death hath shott ;
And thou, alas, hast locked up Lifes Tree.
O Miserable Me,
What help were left, had JESUS'S Pity not
Shewd me another Tree, which can
Enliven dying Man.

That Tree, made Fertile by his own dear blood ;
And by his Death with quickning virtue fraught.
I now dread not the thought
Of barracado'd Eden, since as good
A Paradise I planted see
On open Calvarie.