Book I, 31: A Soliloquie

Where shall I find my God! O where, O where
Shall I direct my steps, to finde him there?
Shall I make search in swelling Baggs of Coyne?
Ah no; For God and Mammon cannot joyne:
Doe Beds of Down containe this heavenly stranger?
No no; Hee's rather cradled in some Manger:
Dwells he in wisedome? Is he gone that rode?
No no; Mans wisedome's foolishnes with God:
Or hath some new Plantation, yet unknown,
Made him their King, adorn'd him with their Crowne?
No, no, the kingdomes of the earth thinke scorne
T'adorne his Browes with any Crown but Thorne.
Where shall I trace; or where shall I go winde him?
My Lord is gone; and O! I cannot finde him:
Ile ransack the dark Dungeons: Ile enquire
Into the Furnace, after the sev'nth fire.
Ile seeke in Daniels Den, and in Pauls prison;
Ile search his Grave and see if he be risen:
Ile goe to th'house of mourning; and Ile call
At every Almes-abused Hospitall:
Ile goe and aske the widow, that's opprest;
The heavy laden, that enquiers rest:
Il search the Corners of all broken hearts;
The wounded Conscience, and the soule that smarts;
The contrite spirit fill'd with filiall feare;
I, there he is; and no where else, but there:
Spare not to scourge they pleasure, O my God,
So I may finde thy presnce, with thy Rod.