A POEME DECLARING THE REAL PRESENCE OF CHRIST IN THE BLESSED SACRAMENT OF THE AVLTAR.
IN Paschal feast, the end of ancient rite:
An entrance was to neuer fading grace.
Tipes to the truth, dimme glimpses to the light:
Performing deed presaging signes did chase.
Christs final meale, was fountaine of our good:
For mortal meate, he gaue immortal food.
That which he gaue he was, รด peereles guift:
Both God and man he was, and both he gaue.
He in his hands him selfe did trulie lift:
Farre of they see, whome in them selues they haue.
Twelue did he feed, twelue did the feeder eate:
He made, he drest, he gaue, he was their meate.
They sawe, they heard, they felt him sitting neare:
Vnseene, vnfelt, vnheard, they him receaued.
No diuers things, though diuers it appeare,
Though sences faile, yet faith is not deceaued.
And if the wonder of the worke be newe:
Beleeue the worke, because the word is true.
Here true beliefe of force inuiteth loue:
So sweet a truth loue neuer yet inioyde.
VVhat thought can thinke, what wil doth best approue:
Is here attainde, where no desire is voide.
The grace, the ioye, the treasure here is such:
No wit can wish, nor wil imbrace so much.
Selfe loue here cannot craue, more then it findes:
Ambition to no higher worth aspire.
The eagrest famine, of most hongrie mindes:
May fil, yea farre exceed their owne desire.
In summe heres al, and that in some exprest:
Of much the most, of euery good the best.
Here to delight the wits, true wisdom is:
To wooe the wil, of euery good the choice.
For memory, a mirrhor shewing blisse:
Heres al that can both sence and soule reioyce,
And if to al, al this it doth not bring:
The fault is in the men, not in the thing.
Though blinde men see no light, the Sunne doth shine:
Sweet cates, are sweet, though sowered tasts deny it.
Pearles, pretious are, though trodden on by swine:
Each truth is true, though al men do not trie it.
The best, stil to the bad doth worke the worst:
Things bred to blisse, doth make them more accurst.
The Angels eyes, whome veiles cannot deceaue:
Might best disclose, what best they doe discerne.
Men must with sound, and silent faith receaue:
More then they can, by sence or reason learne.
Gods power our proofe, his works our wits exceed:
The doers might is reason for his deed.
A bodie is endued with ghostlie rights:
And natures worke from natures law is free.
In heauenlie Sunne lies hidde eternal lights:
Lights cleare, and neare, yet them no eye can see
Dead formes a neuer dying life doth shrowde:
A boundles sea lies in a little clowde.
The God of hosts in slender hosts doth dwel:
Yea God, and man, withal to either due.
That God that rules the heauens, and rifled hel:
That man whose death did vs to life renewe.
That God and man it is that Angels blisse:
In forme of bread and wine our nourture is.
VVhole may his bodie be, in smallest bread:
VVhole in the whole, yea whole in euery crumme.
VVith which be one, or be ten thowsand fedde:
Al to each one, to al but one doth come
And though each one as much as al receaue:
Not one too much, nor al too litle haue.
One soule in man is al in euery parte,
One face at once in many glasses shines.
One fearful noise doth make a thowsand start:
One eye at once of countles things defines
If proofe of one in many, nature frame,
VVhie may not God much more performe the same.
God present is at once in euery place:
Yet God in euery place is alwaies one.
So may there be by guifts of ghostlie grace:
One man in many roomes, yet filling none.
Sith Angels may effects of bodies showe
God Angels guifts on bodies may bestowe.
VVhat God as author made, he alter may,
No chandge so hard, as making al of nought;
If Adam framed were of slimie claie;
Bread may to Christs most sacred flesh be brought
He stil doth this, that made with mighty hand,
Of water wine, a snake of Moyses wand.
Printed at Doway, by Laurence Kellam, at the signe of the holy Lambe, 1606.