BRight spark, shot from a brighter place,
     Where beams surround my Saviours face,
              Canst thou be any where
                   So well as there?

Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart,
     Take a bad lodging in my heart;
              For thou canst make a debter,
                   And make it better.

First with thy fire-work burn to dust
     Folly, and worse then folly, lust:
              Then with thy light refine,
                   And make it shine.

So disengag’d from sinne and sicknesse,
     Touch it with thy celestiall quicknesse,
              That it may hang and move
                   After thy love.

Then with our trinitie of light,
     Motion, and heat, let’s take our flight
              Unto the place where thou
                   Before didst bow.

Get me a standing there, and place
     Among the beams, which crown the face
              Of him, who dy’d to part
                   Sinne and my heart:

That so among the rest I may
     Glitter, and curle, and winde as they:
              That winding is their fashion
                   Of adoration.

Sure thou wilt joy, by gaining me
     To flie home like a laden bee
              Unto that hive of beams
                   And garland-streams.