The Temple
Table of Contents
Catalogue of Titles
Logos Virtual Library
Catalogue
The Temple
The Church
Sepulchre
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O blessed bodie! Whither art thou thrown? No lodging for thee, but a cold hard stone? So many hearts on earth, and yet not one Sure there is room within our hearts good store; For they can lodge transgressions by the score: Thousands of toyes dwell there, yet out of doore But that which shews them large, shews them unfit. What ever sinne did this pure rock commit, Which holds thee now? Who hath indited it Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee, And missing this, most falsly did arraigne thee; Onely these stones in quiet entertain thee, And as of old, the law by heav’nly art Was writ in stone; so thou, which also art The letter of the word, find’st no fit heart Yet do we still persist as we began, And so should perish, but that nothing can, Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man |
 The Church Redemption |
 The Church Easter |