As in the time of Winter

The Earth doth fruitlesse and barren lie,

Till the Sun his course doth run

Through Aries, Taurus, Gemini;

Then he repayres what Cold did decay,

Drawing superfluous moistures away,

And by his luster, together with showers,

The Earth becoms fruitful & plesant with flowers

That what in winter seemed dead,

Thereby the Sun is life discovered.

So though that in the Winter

Of sharp Afflictions, fruits seem to dy,

And for that space, the life of Grace

Remayneth in the Root only;

Yet when the Son of Righteousnesse clear

Shall make Summer with us, our spirits to chear,

Warming our hearts with the sense of his favour,

Then must our flowers of piety savour,

And then the fruits of righteousnesse

We to the glory of God must expresse.

And as when Night is parted;

The Sun ascending our Hemisphear,

Ill fumes devouers, and opes the powers

Which in our bodies are, and there

He drawes out the spirits of moving and sence

As from the center, to the circumference;

So that the exterior parts are delighted,

And unto mocion and action excited,

And hence it is that with more delight

We undergo labor by day then by night.

So though a Night of Sorrows

May stay proceedings in piety

Yet shall our light like morning bright

Arise out of obscurity,

Then when the Sun that never declines

Shall open the faculties of our mindes,

Stirring up in them that spirituall mocion

Whereby we make towards God with devocion

When kindled by his influence

Our Sacrifice is as pleasing incense.

Now when we feel Gods favour

And the communion with him we have,

Alone we may admit of joy

As having found what most we crave,

Store must we gather while such gleams do last

Against our tryalls sharp winterly blasts

So dispairacion shall swallow us never,

Who know where God once loves, there he loves ever

Though sence of it oft wanting is

Yet still Gods mercies continue with his.

So soon as we discover

Our souls benummed in such a case,

We may not stay, without delay

We must approach the Throne of Grace,

First taking words to our selves to declare

How dead to goodnesse by nature we are,

Then seeking by him who for us did merit

To be enliv’d by his quickening Spirit,

Whose flame doth light our spark of Grace,

Whereby we may behold his pleased face.

From whence come beams of comfort,

The chiefest matter of tru Content,

Who tast and see, how sweet they be,

Perceive they are most excellent,

Being a glimce of his presence so bright,

Who dwelleth in unapproachable light:

Whoso hath happily this mercy attayned,

Earnest of blessednesse endlesse hath gayned,

Where happinesse doth not decay

There Spring is eternall, and endlesse is day.