Iv

Let verity Be thy delight; let me esteem True wealth far more than toys: Let sacred riches be, While falser treasures only seem, My real joys. For golden chains and bracelets are But gilded manacles, whereby Old Satan doth ensnare, Allure, bewitch the eye. Thy gifts, O God, alone I'll prize, My tongue, my eyes, My cheeks, my lips, my ears, my hands, my feet; Their harmony is far more sweet; Their beauty true. And these in all my ways Shall themes become and organs of Thy praise.