Wittes Pilgrimage, Sonnet 16

WHen well I weigh thy Fassions, and thy Forme,
(Both being of Celestiall temp'rature,
Which no Change can endammage, or deforme)
My loue becomes, like Them, as firme, as pure!
Thy Soule vpon so sweet an Organ plaies
As makes the Parts, she plaies, as sound, as sweete;
Which sounds the heau'nly Setters, and thy praise;
The Close wherof with groundlesse blisse doth meet!
This makes desire, in me, (vnlike Desire)
Like Christall, cold, and cleare, through heat, and colde;
This makes me flame, like Sol, with heau'nly fire,
Which fructifies mine Earth, as vertue would:
Then, what I am, at best, I am of Thee,
Vertues best Instrument to fashion mee.