Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
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| | COURAGE, 1 my soul! now learn to wield | |
| | The weight of thine immortal shield; | |
| | Close on thy head thy helmet bright; | |
| | Balance thy sword against the fight; | |
| | See where an army, strong as fair, | 5 |
| | With silken banner spreads the air! | |
| | Now, if thou be’st that thing divine, | |
| | In this day’s combat let it shine, | |
| | And show that nature wants an art | |
| | To conquer one resolvèd heart. | 10 |
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| Pleasure. | Welcome the creation’s guest, | |
| | Lord of earth, and heaven’s heir! | |
| | Lay aside that warlike crest, | |
| | And of Nature’s banquet share; | |
| | Where the souls of fruits and flowers | 15 |
| | Stand prepared to heighten yours. | |
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| Soul. | I sup above, and cannot stay | |
| | To bait so long upon the way. | |
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| Pleasure. | On these downy pillows lie, | |
| | Whose soft plumes will thither fly: | 20 |
| | On these roses, strewed so plain | |
| | Lest one leaf thy side should strain. | |
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| Soul. | My gentler rest is on a thought, | |
| | Conscious of doing what I ought. | |
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| Pleasure. | If thou be’st with perfumes pleased, | 25 |
| | Such as oft the gods appeased, | |
| | Thou in fragrant clouds shalt show, | |
| | Like another god below. | |
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| Soul. | A soul that knows not to presume, | |
| | Is heaven’s, and its own, perfume. | 30 |
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| Pleasure. | Everything does seem to vie | |
| | Which should first attract thine eye: | |
| | But since none deserves that grace, | |
| | In this crystal view thy face. | |
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| Soul. | When the Creator’s skill is prized, | 35 |
| | The rest is all but earth disguised. | |
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| Pleasure. | Hark, how music then prepares | |
| | For thy stay these charming airs, | |
| | Which the posting winds recall, | |
| | And suspend the river’s fall. | 40 |
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| Soul. | Had I but any time to lose, | |
| | On this I would it all dispose. | |
| | Cease, tempter! None can chain a mind, | |
| | Whom this sweet cordage cannot bind. | |
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| Chorus. | Earth cannot show so brave a sight, | 45 |
| | As when a single soul does fence | |
| | The batteries of alluring sense, | |
| | And heaven views it with delight. | |
| | Then persevere; for still new charges sound, | |
| | And if thou overcom’st thou shalt be crowned. | 50 |
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| Pleasure. | All that’s costly, fair, and sweet, | |
| | Which scatteringly doth shine, | |
| | Shall within one beauty meet, | |
| | And she be only thine. | |
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| Soul. | If things of sight such heavens be, | 55 |
| | What heavens are those we cannot see? | |
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| Pleasure. | Wheresoe’er thy foot shall go | |
| | The minted gold shall lie, | |
| | Till thou purchase all below, | |
| | And want new worlds to buy. | 60 |
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| Soul. | Wer’t not for price, who’d value gold? | |
| | And that’s worth naught that can be sold. | |
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| Pleasure. | Wilt thou all the glory have | |
| | That war or peace commend? | |
| | Half the world shall be thy slave, | 65 |
| | The other half thy friend. | |
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| Soul. | What friend, if to myself untrue? | |
| | What slaves, unless I captive you? | |
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| Pleasure. | Thou shalt know each hidden cause, | |
| | And see the future time; | 70 |
| | Try what depth the centre draws, | |
| | And then to heaven climb. | |
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| Soul. | None thither mounts by the degree | |
| | Of knowledge, but humility. | |
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| Chorus. | Triumph, triumph, victorious soul! | 75 |
| | The world has not one pleasure more: | |
| | The rest does lie beyond the pole, | |
| | And is thine everlasting store. | |
