On the Five Senses

Awake, dull Soul, lest this lethargick Fit
Benumb thy Senses, and thou fall by it:
Thus to permit thy Appetites to sway,
Will ruine them, and cast thy self away.

When Earth, and Air, and Seas, are vex'd to find
Excessive Rareties of ev'ry kind,
To please thy Palate cook'd with cost and care;
Wish then some heavenly Manna were thy fare.

When rich Arabian Spices shall be spent,
To make sweet Odours to delight thy Scent,
Think on that costly Ointment that was shed,
With such Devotion on thy Saviour's Head.

When Lutes and Harps do cast away thy Cares,
Abate thy Sorrows, and do please thy Ears;
And mortal Voices do great solace bring,
Think on the Choirs of Angels how they sing.

When thou art ravish'd with some gentle touch,
Think if the Spear or Crown of Thorns were such;
Or when much pleas'd with what 'doth softest feel,
Think when whose Hands were pierced thro' with Steel.

When thy vain Eyes are dazled at the fight
Of some bright Beauty with too much delight;
Look upward to the Throne of Grace, there see
More glorious Rays sent thence to lighten thee.

Thus may my Soul rejoice in either sence,
Be satisfied, and yet learn good from thence;
The world enjoy, and yet from Crimes be free,
By turning Pleasure into Piety.