SWEET PEACE, where dost thou dwell ? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And ask’d, if Peace were there. A hollow winde did seem to answer, No : Go seek elsewhere.
I did ; and going did a rainbow note : Surely, thought I, This is the lace of Peaces coat : I will search out the matter. But while I lookt, the clouds immediately Did break and scatter.
Then went I to a garden, and did spy A gallant flower, The crown Imperiall : Sure, said I, Peace at the root must dwell. But when I digg’d, I saw a worm devoure What show’d so well.
At length I met a rev’rend good old man : Whom when of Peace I did demand, he thus began ; There was a Prince of old At Salem dwelt, who liv’d with good increase Of flock and fold.
He sweetly liv’d ; yet sweetnesse did not save His life from foes. But after death out of his grave There sprang twelve stalks of wheat : Which many wondring at, got some of those To plant and set.
It prosper’d strangely, and did soon disperse Through all the earth : For they that taste it do rehearse, That vertue lies therein ; A secret vertue bringing peace and mirth By flight of sinne.
Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, And grows for you ; Make bread of it : and that repose And peace, which ev’ry where With so much earnestnesse you do pursue Is onely there.
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