But shall my Soul no Wealth possess?

No Outward Riches have?

Shall Hands and Eys alone express

Thy Bounty, which the Grave

Will soon devour? Shall I becom

Within my self a Living Tomb

Of useless Wonders? Shall the fair, and brave,

And great Endowments of my Soul ly waste;

Which ought to be a Fountain and a Womb

Of Praises unto Thee?

Shall there no Outward Objects be

For these to see and taste?

Not so, my God, for other Joys and Pleasures

Are the Occasion that my Limbs are Treasures.

My Palat is a Touch-stone fit

To taste how Good Thou art;

My other Members second it,

Thy Praises to impart:

There's not an Ey that's fram'd by Thee

But is thy Life and Lov to see:

Nor is there, Lord, upon mine Head, an Ear,

But that the Musick of Thy Works should hear:

Each Toe, each Finger, by thy pow'rful Skill

Created, should distill

Ambrosia; more than Nectar flow

From evry Joint I ow,

B'ing well-imploy'd; for they Thy Holy Will

Are activ Instruments made to fulfill.

Elixirs richer are than Dross;

The End is more divine

Than are the Means: But Dung and Loss

Materials (tho they shine

Like Gold and Silver) are, compar'd

To what Thy Spirit doth regard,

Thy Will require, Thy Lov embrace, thy Mind

Esteem, thy Wisdom most illustrious find.

These are the Things God reckons His Reward;

A grateful Heart that pays

Homage to Him without Delays;

A Tongue that's us'd to prais;

A bended Knee; an Ey fixt on the Skies;

A du Emploiment of our Faculties.

For this the Hev'ns were made as well

As Earth, the spacious Seas

Are ours: the Stars that Gems excell,

And Air, design'd to pleas

Our Earthly part; the very Fire

For Uses which our Needs require:

The Orb of Light in its wide Circuit movs;

Corn for our Food springs out of very Mire;

Fences and Fewel grow in Woods and Groves;

Choice Herbs and Flow'rs aspire

To kiss our Feet; Beasts court our Lovs.