The LEVELING of the Heart.

PSALM. XCVii 11.

Gladness for the upright in heart.

EPIG. 23.

SET thine heart upright, if thou wouldst rejoice,
And please thyself in thine heart's pleasing choice:
But then be sure thy plumb and level be
Rightly apply'd to that which pleaseth me.

ODE XXIII.

1.

Nay, yet I have not done: one trial more
Thine heart must undergo, before
I will accept of it:
Unless I see

It upright be,

I cannot think it fit

To be admitted in my sight,
And to partake of mine eternal light.

2.

My will's the rule of righteousness, as free
From error as uncertainty :

What I would have is just.
Thou must desire

What I require,

And take it upon trust :

If thou prefer thy will to mine,

The level's lost, and thou go'st out of line.

Canst

CORDIS RECTIFICATIO.

Ad rectum persæpe mei Cor Cordis amusim, Si rectum cupias exige Nala luum.

The LEVEILING of the HEART.

The Heart's true Level if you still design,
Then often bring it to be try'd by mine.

3.

Canst thou not see how thine heart turns aside,
And leans toward thyself? How wide
A distance there is here?
Until I see

Both sides agree

Alike with mine, 'tis clear

The middle is not where't should be ; Likes something better, though it look at me.

4.

I, that know best how to dispose of thee,
Would have thy portion poverty,
Lest wealth should make thee proud,
And me forget :

But thou hast set

Thy voice to cry aloud

For riches; and unless I grant

All that thou wishest, thou complain'st of want.

5.

I, to preserve thine health, would have thee fast
From nature's dainties, lest at last
Thy senses sweet delight

Should end in smart:

But thy vain heart

Will have its appetite

Pleased to day, though grief and sorrow Threaten to cancel all thy joys to morrow.

6.

I, to prevent thy hurt by climbing high,
Would have thee be content to lie
Quiet and safe below,

Where peace doth dwell;
But thou dost swell

With vast desires, as though
A little blast of vulgar breath
Were better than deliverance from death.

7.

1, to procure thy happiness, would have Thee mercy at mine hands to crave: But thou dost merit plead,

And wilt have none

But of thine own,

Till justice strike thee dead,

And all thy crooked paths go cross to mine.

The