VII. Sir John Davies

O! WHAT is man, great Maker of mankind!

That thou to him so great respect dost beare;

That thou adornst him with so bright a mind,

Mak’st him a king, and euen an angels’ peere?

O! what a liuelie life, what heauenly power,

What spreading vertue, what a sparkling fire,

How great, how plentifull, how rich a dowre,

Dost thou within this dying flesh inspire!

Thou leau’st thy print in other workes of thine,

But thy whole image thou in man hast writ:

There cannot be a creature more diuine,

Except, like thee, it should be infinit.

But it exceeds man’s thought to thinke how high

God hath raisd man, since God a man became:

The angels doe admire this mysterie,

And are astonisht when they view the same.

Nor hath he giuen these blessings for a day,

Nor made them on the bodie’s life depend:

The soule, though made in time, suruiues for aye;

And though it hath beginning, sees no end.