A Meditation on a Bird in a Cage.

SEe how my little prisoner hops about
Her wyrie Cage, and sweetly ditties out
Her various tunes: and since shee cannot flee
Abroad, shee looks for meate from none but me:
But if I ope my Cage, her lofty wings
Supports her to the Forrest, where shee fings
Some rustick notes, and when my bird can see
Some meat abroad, shee seeks for none to me.
Tis thus, (good God) whilst thou on us dost bring
Thy great afflictions, O how well we sing
Thy prayse, whilst we thus imprisned be,
Our faiths more active and our hop's on thee:
But if thou let us loose, we quickly flye
Abroad, and lose our wonted harmony.
Our faiths more uselesse, if elsewhere we see
Some foode, we seldome come for meate to thee,
If thou wilt feede, and teach me Lord to praise,
Then let me be thy prisoner all my daies.