And keeps the palace of the soul.

All things but one you can restore; the heart you get returns no more.

The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more!

The fear of Hell, or aiming to be blest, Savors too much of private interest. This moved not Moses, nor the zealous Paul, Who for their friends abandoned soul and all.

Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse.

His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.

And as pale sickness does invade, Your frailer part, the breaches made, In that fair lodging still more clear, Make the bright guest, your soul, appear.