The Family

What does this noise of thoughts within my heart,

                    As if they had a part?

What do these loud complaints and pulling fears,

     As if there were no rules or ears?

But, Lord, the house and family are thine,

                    Though some of them repine.

Turn out these wranglers, which defile your seat:

     For where you will dwell all is neat.

First Peace and Silence all disputes control,

                    Then Order plies the soul;

And giving all things their set forms and hours,

     Makes of wild woods sweet walks and bowers.

Humble Obedience near the door does stand,

                    Expecting a command:

Than whom in waiting nothing seems more slow,

     Nothing more quick when she does go.

Joys oft are there, and griefs as oft as joys;

                    But griefs without a noise:

Yet speak they louder than distempered fears.

     What is so shrill as silent tears?

This is your house, with these it does abound:

                    And where these are not found,

Perhaps you com'st sometimes, and for a day;

     But not to make a constant stay.

The Foil

                    If we could see below

The sphere of virtue, and each shining grace

          As plainly as that above does show;

This were the better sky, the brighter place.

                    God has made stars the foil

To set off virtues; griefs to set off sinning:

          Yet in this wretched world we toil,

As if grief were not foul, nor virtue winning.