All after pleasures as I rid one day,

My horse and I, both tir'd, bodie and minde,

With full crie of affections, quite astray;

I took up in the next inne I could finde.

There when I came, whom found I but my deare,

My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief

Of pleasures brought me to him, readie there

To be all passengers most sweet relief?

O thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light,

Wrapt in nights mantle, stole into a manger;

Since my dark soul and brutish is thy right,

To Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger:

Furnish & deck my soul, that thou mayst have

A better lodging, then a rack, or grave.

The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be?

My God, no hymne for thee?

My soul's a shepherd too; a flock it feeds

Of thoughts, and words, and deeds.

The pasture is thy word: the streams, thy grace

Enriching all the place.

Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers

Out-sing the day-light houres.

Then we will chide the sunne for letting night

Take up his place and right:

We sing one common Lord; wherefore he should

Himself the candle hold.

I will go searching, till I find a sunne

Shall stay, till we have done;

A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly,

As frost-nipt sunnes look sadly.

Then we will sing, and shine all our own day,

And one another pay:

His beams shall cheer my breast, and both so twine,

Till ev'n his beams sing, and my musick shine.