Iii

They ought, my God, to be the pipes And conduits of Thy praise. Men's bodies were not made for stripes, Nor anything but joys. They were not made to be alone: But made to be the very throne Of Blessedness, to be like Suns, whose rays, Dispersed, scatter many thousand ways. They drink in nectars, and disburse again In purer beams, those streams, Those nectars which are caus'd by joys, And as the spacious main Doth all the rivers, which it drinks, return, Thy love receiv'd doth make the soul to burn.