On a faire house having ill passage to it.

A House to which the builders did impart
The full perfection of their curious art,
Most bravely furnisht, in whose roomes did lye,
Foote clothes of Velvet, and of tapestry;
I wondred at (as who could not but doe it)
To see so rough so hard a passage to it:
So Lord I know thy heaven's a glorious place,
Wherein the beauty of thy glistring face
Inlightens all: thou in the wals dost fixe,
The Iasper and the purest sardonyx,
Thy gates are pearles, and every dore beset
With Saphires, Emeralds, and the Chrysolet:
Each Subject weares a crowne, the which he brings
And flings it downe to thee, the King of Kings.
But why's the way so thorny? tis great pitty
The passage is no wider to thy Citty,
Poore Daniel through his den and Shadrake's driven
With his associates through the fire to Heaven,
But yet we can't complaine, we may recall
The time to minde when there was none at all,
T'was Christ that made this way, and shall we be
Who are his Servants, farre more nice then he?
No, Ile adventure too, nay, Ile get in,
Ile tracke my Captaine thorow thicke and thin.