The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/The Sacrifice
For works with similar titles, see The Sacrifice.
The Sacrifice.
OH all ye, who passe by, whose eyes and mindeTo worldly things are sharp, but to me blinde;To me, who took eyes that I might you finde:Was ever grief like mine?
The Princes of my people make a headAgainst their Maker: they do wish me dead,Who cannot wish, except I give them bread:Was ever grief like mine?
Without me each one who doth now me brave,Had to this day been an Egyptian slave.They use that power against me, which I gave!Was ever grief like mine?
Mine own Apostle, who the bag did beare,Though he had all I had, did not forbeareTo sell me also, and to put me there:Was ever grief, &c.
For thirty pence he did my death devise,Who at three hundred did the ointment prize,Not half so sweet as my sweet sacrifice:Was ever grief, &c.
Therefore my soul melts, and my hearts deare treasureDrops bloud (the onely beads) my words to measure:Oh let this cup passe, if it be thy pleasure:Was ever grief, &c.
These drops being temper'd with a sinners tears,Balsome are for both the Hemispheres:Curing all wounds, but mine; all, but my fears:Was ever grief, &c.
Yet my Disciples sleep: I cannot gainOne houre of watching; but their drowsie brainComforts not me, and doth my doctrine stain:Was ever grief like mine?
Arise, arise, they come. Look how they runne.Alas! what haste they make to be undone!How with their lanterns do they seek the sunne!Was ever grief, &c.
With clubs and staves they seek me, as a thief,Who am the way of truth, the true relief;Most true to those, who are my greatest grief:Was ever grief, &c.
Judas, dost thou betray me with a kisse?Canst thou finde hell about my lips? and misseOf life, just at the gates of life and blisse?Was ever grief, &c.
See, they lay hold on me, not with the handsOf faith, but furie: yet at their commandsI suffer binding, who have loos'd their bands:Was ever grief, &c.
All my Disciples flie; fear puts a barreBetwixt my friends and me. They leave the starre,That brought the wise men of the East from farre.Was ever grief, &c.
Then from one ruler to another boundThey leade me; urging, that it was not soundWhat I taught: Comments would the text confound:Was ever grief, &c.
The Priest and rulers all false witnesse seek'Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meekAnd ready Paschal Lambe of this great week:Was ever grief, &c.
Then they accuse me of great blasphemie,That I did thrust into the Deitie,Who never thought that any robberie:Was ever grief like mine?
Some said, that I the Temple to the flooreIn three dayes raz'd, and raised as before.Why, he that built the world can do much more:Was ever grief, &c.
Then they condemne me all with that same breath,Which I do give them daily, unto death.Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth:Was ever grief, &c.
They binde, and leade me unto Herod: heSends me to Pilate. This makes them agree;But yet their friendship is my enmitie:Was ever grief, &c.
Herod and all his bands do set me light,Who teach all hands to warre, fingers to fight,And onely am the Lord of hosts and might:Was ever grief, &c.
Herod in judgement sits, while I do stand;Examines me with a censorious hand:I him obey, who all things else command:Was ever grief, &c.
The Jews accuse me with despitefulnesse;And vying malice with my gentlenesse,Pick quarrels with their onely happinesse:Was ever grief, &c.
I answer nothing, but with patience proveIf stony hearts will melt with gentle love.But who does hawk at eagles with a dove?Was ever grief, &c.
My silence rather doth augment their crie;My dove doth back into my bosome flie,Because the raging waters still are high:Was ever grief like mine?
Heark how they crie aloud still, Crucifie:It is not fit he live a day, they crie,Who cannot live lesse then eternally:Was ever grief, &c.
Pilate a stranger holdeth off; but they,Mine own deare people, cry, Away, away,With noises confused frighting the day:Was ever grief, &c.
Yet still they shout, and crie, and stop their eares,Putting my life among their sinnes and fears,And therefore wish my bloud on them and theirs:Was ever grief, &c.
See how spite cankers things. These words arightUsed, and wished, are the whole worlds light:But hony is their gall, brightnesse their night:Was ever grief, &c.
They choose a murderer, and all agreeIn him to do themselves a courtesie:For it was their own cause who killed me:Was ever grief, &c.
And a seditious murderer he was:But I the Prince of peace; peace that doth passeAll understanding, more then heav'n doth glasse:Was ever grief, &c.
Why, Cesar is their onely King, not I:He clave the stonie rock, when they were drie;But surely not their hearts, as I well trie:Was ever grief, &c.
Ah! how they scourge me! yet my tendernesseDoubles each lash: and yet their bitternesseWindes up my grief to a mysteriousnesse:Was ever grief like mine?
They buffet me, and box me as they list,Who grasp the earth and heaven with my fist,And never yet, whom I would punish, miss'd:Was ever grief, &c.
Behold, they spit on me in scornfull wise,Who by my spittle gave the blinde man eies,Leaving his blindnesse to mine enemies:Was ever grief, &c.
My face they cover, though it be divine.As Moses face was vailed, so is mine,Lest on their double-dark souls either shine:Was ever grief, &c.
Servants and abjects flout me; they are wittie:Now prophesie who strikes thee, is their dittie.So they in me denie themselves all pitie:Was ever grief, &c.
And now I am deliver'd unto death,Which each one calls for so with utmost breath,That he before me well nigh suffereth:Was ever grief, &c.
Weep not, deare friends, since I for both have weptWhen all my tears were bloud, the while you slept:Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept:Was ever grief, &c.
The souldiers leade me to the common hall;There they deride me, they abuse me all:Yet for twelve heav'nly legions I could call:Was ever grief, &c.
Then with a scarlet robe they me aray;Which shews my bloud to be the onely way,And cordiall left to repair mans decay:Was ever grief like mine?
Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear:For these are all the grapes Sion doth bear,Though I my vine planted and watred there:Was ever grief, &c.
So sits the earths great curse in Adams fallUpon my head: so I remove it allFrom th' earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall:Was ever grief, &c.
Then with the reed they gave to me before,They strike my head, the rock from whence all storeOf heav'nly blessings issue evermore:Was ever grief, &c.
They bow their knees to me, and cry, Hail king,What ever scoffes or scornfulnesse can bring,I am the floore, the sink, where they it fling:Was ever grief, &c.
Yet since mans scepters are as frail as reeds,And thorny all their crowns, bloudie their weeds;I who am Truth, turn into truth their deeds:Was ever grief, &c.
The souldiers also spit upon that face,Which Angels did desire to have the grace,And Prophets once to see, but found no place:Was ever grief, &c.
Thus trimmed forth they bring me to the rout,Who Crucifie him, crie with one strong shout.God holds his peace at man, and man cries out:Was ever grief, &c.
They leade me in once more, and putting thenMine own clothes on, they leade me out agen.Whom devils flie, thus is he toss'd of men:Was ever grief like Mind?
And now wearie of sport, glad to ingrosseAll spite in one, counting my life their losse,They carrie me to my most bitter crosse:Was ever grief, &c.
My crosse I bear my self, untill I faint:Then Simon bears it for me by constraint,The decreed burden of each mortall Saint:Was ever grief, &c.
O all ye who passe by, behold and see;Man stole the fruit, but I must climbe the tree;The tree of life to all, but onely me:Was ever grief, &c.
Lo, here I hang, charg'd with a world of sinne,The greater world o'th' two; for that came inBy words, but this by sorrow I must win:Was ever grief, &c.
Such sorrow, as if sinfull man could feel,Or feel his part, he would not cease to kneel,Till all were melted, though he were all steel:Was ever grief, &c.
But, O my God, my God! why leav'st thou me,The sonne, in whom thou dost delight to be?My God, my GodNever was grief like mine.
Shame tears my soul, my bodie many a wound;Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound;Reproches, which are free, while I am bound:Was ever grief, &c.
Now heal thy self, Physician; now come down.Alas! I did so, when I left my crownAnd fathers smile for you, to feel his frown:Was ever grief like mine?
In healing not my self, there doth consistAll that salvation, which ye now resist;Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist:Was ever grief, &c.
Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath,As he that for some robberie suffereth.Alas! what have I stollen from you? death:Was ever grief, &c.
A king my title is, prefixt on high;Yet by my subjects am condemn'd to dieA servile death in servile companie:Was ever grief, &c.
They gave me vineger mingled with gall,But more with malice: yet, when they did call,With Manna, Angels food, I fed them all:Was ever grief, &c.
They part my garments, and by lot disposeMy coat, the type of love, which once cur'd thoseWho sought for help, never malicious foes:Was ever grief, &c.
Nay, after death their spite shall further go:For they will pierce my side, I full well know;That as sinne came, so Sacraments might flow:Was ever grief, &c.
But now I die; now all is finished.My wo, mans weal and now I bow my head.Onely let others say, when I am dead,Never was grief like mine.