In Adoration Of The Blessed Sacrament.[42]

Ecce panis Angelorum, Adoro te.

With all the powres my poor heart hath Of humble loue and loyall faith, Thus lowe (my hidden life!) I bow to Thee Whom too much loue hath bow'd more low for me. Down, down, proud Sense! discourses dy! Keep close, my soul's inquiring ey! Not touch, nor tast, must look for more But each sitt still in his own dore.

Your ports are all superfluous here, Saue that which lets in Faith, the eare. Faith is my skill: Faith can beleiue As fast as Loue new lawes can giue. Faith is my force: Faith strength affords To keep pace with those powrfull words. And words more sure, more sweet then they, Loue could not think, Truth could not say.

O let Thy wretch find that releife Thou didst afford the faithful theife. Plead for me, Loue! alleage and show That Faith has farther here to goe And lesse to lean on: because than then Though hidd as God, wounds with Thee man: Thomas might touch, none but might see At least the suffring side of Thee; And that too was Thy self which Thee did couer, But here eu'n that's hid too which hides the other.

Sweet, consider then, that I Though allow'd nor hand nor eye To reach at Thy lou'd face; nor can Tast Thee God, or touch Thee man, Both yet beleiue; and witnesse Thee My Lord too and my God, as lowd as he.

Help, Lord, my faith, my hope increase, And fill my portion in Thy peace: Giue loue for life; nor let my dayes Grow, but in new powres to Thy name and praise.

O dear memoriall of that Death Which liues still, and allowes vs breath! Rich, royall food! Bountyfull bread! Whose vse denyes vs to the dead; Whose vitall gust alone can giue The same leaue both to eat and liue; Liue euer bread of loues, and be My life, my soul, my surer-selfe to mee.

O soft self-wounding Pelican! Whose brest weepes balm for wounded man: Ah! this way bend Thy benign floud To a bleeding heart that gaspes for blood. That blood, whose least drops soueraign be To wash my worlds of sins from me.

Come Loue! come Lord! and that long day For which I languish, come away. When this dry soul those eyes shall see, And drink the vnseal'd sourse of Thee: When Glory's sun, Faith's shades shall chase, And for Thy veil giue me Thy face. Amen.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

The original title is 'A Hymne to our Saviour by the Faithfull Receiver of the Sacrament.' As before in the title of 'The Weeper' 'Sainte' is misspelled 'Sanite.'

Line 1 in 1648 reads 'power.'

" 8, 'sitt still in his own dore.'

" 9, 'ports' = openings or gates. So in Edinburgh the 'West-port' = a gate of the city in the old west wall.

Line 21, 'than' = 'then.' See our PHINEAS FLETCHER, as before.

Line 29, TURNBULL leaves undetected the 1670 misprint of 'teach' for 'reach.'

Line 33, 1648 supplies 'my faith,' which in our text is inadvertently dropped; 1670 continues the error, which of course TURNBULL repeated.

Line 36, 1670 edition reads 'Grow, but in new pow'rs to name thy Praise.'

Lines 37-38 are inadvertently omitted in 1648 edition.

Our text, as will be seen, is arranged in stanzas of irregular form. In 1648 edition it is one continuous poem thus printed:

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LAVDA SION SALVATOREM: