Blest Order, which in power dost so excell,

That with th’ one hand thou liftest to the sky,

And with the other throwest down to hell

In thy just censures; fain would I draw nigh,

Fain put thee on, exchanging my lay-sword

For that of th’ holy word.

But thou art fire, sacred and hallow'd fire;

And I but earth and clay: should I presume

To wear thy habit, the severe attire

My slender compositions might consume.

I am both foul and brittle; much unfit

To deal in holy Writ.

Yet have I often seen, by cunning hand

And force of fire, what curious things are made

Of wretched earth. Where once I scorn'd to stand,

That earth is fitted by the fire and trade

Of skilfull artists, for the boards of those

Who make the bravest shows.

But since those great ones, be they ne're so great,

Come from the earth, from whence those vessels come;

So that at once both feeder, dish, and meat

Have one beginning and one finall summe:

I do not greatly wonder at the sight,

If earth in earth delight.

But th’ holy men of God such vessels are,

As serve him up, who all the world commands:

When God vouchsafeth to become our fare,

Their hands conuey him, who conveys their hands.

O what pure things, most pure must those things be,

Who bring my God to me!

Wherefore I dare not, I, put forth my hand

To hold the Ark, although it seem to shake

Through th’ old sinnes and new doctrines of our land.

Onely, since God doth often vessels make

Of lowly matter for high uses meet,

I throw me at his feet.

There will I lie, untill my Maker seek

For some mean stuffe whereon to show his skill:

Then is my time. The distance of the meek

Doth flatter power. Lest good come short of ill

In praising might, the poore do by submission

What pride by opposition.