Mattens

I Cannot ope mine eyes,But thou art ready there to catchMy morning-soul and sacrifice:Then we must needs for that day make a match.

My God, what is a heart?Silver, or gold, or precious stone,Or starre, or rainbow, or a partOf all these things, or all of them in one?

My God, what is a heart,That thou shouldst it so eye, and wooe,Powring upon it all thy art,As if that thou hadst nothing els to do?

Indeed mans whole estateAmounts (and richly) to serve thee:He did not heav'n and earth create,Yet studies them, not him by whom they be.

Teach me thy love to know;That this new light, which now I see,May both the work and workman show:Then by a sunne-beam I will climbe to thee.