St. vi. line 2. Our text (1652) corrects a manifest blunder of 1648, which reads 'wag'd' for 'way'd' = weighed. In 1648, lines 3-4 read 'Both with one price were weighed, Both with one price were paid.' St. vii. appeared for the first time in our text (1652). In the closing four lines, line 4, 1648, reads noticeably 'That Kingdome which Thy blessed death did merit.' The allusion in st. iv. is to the old reading of Psalm xcvi. 10: 'Tell it among the heathen that the Lord reigneth from _the tree_.' The reference to Solomon points to the mediæval mystical interpretations of Canticles iii. 9-10. I place 'Vexilla Regis' immediately after the 'Office of the Holy Crosse,' as really belonging to it, and not to be separated as in 1648. G. [THE LORD SILENCES HIS QUESTIONERS.][29] 'Neither durst any man from that day aske Him any more questions.' _St. Matthew_ xxii. Mid'st all the darke and knotty snares, 1 Black wit or malice can, or dares, Thy glorious wisedome breaks the nets, And treds with uncontroulèd steps; Thy quell'd foes are not onely now 5 Thy triumphs, but Thy trophies too: They both at once Thy conquests bee, And Thy conquests' memorie. Stony amazement makes them stand Wayting on Thy victorious hand, 10 Like statues fixèd to the fame Of Thy renoune, and their own shame, As if they onely meant to breath To be the life of their own death. 'Twas time to hold their peace, when they 15 Had ne're another word to say; Yet is their silence unto Thee, The full sound of Thy victorie; Their silence speaks aloud, and is Thy well pronounc'd panegyris. 20 While they speak nothing, they speak all Their share, in Thy memoriall. While they speake nothing, they proclame Thee, with the shrillest trump of Fame. To hold their peace is all the wayes 25 These wretches have to speak Thy praise. OUR B[LESSED] LORD IN HIS CIRCUMCISION TO HIS FATHER.[30] 1. To Thee these first-fruits of My growing death 1 (For what else is My life?), lo! I bequeath: 2. Tast this, and as Thou lik'st this lesser flood Expect a sea; My heart shall make it good. 3. Thy wrath that wades here now, e're long shall swim, 5 The floodgate shall be set wide ope for Him. 4. Then let Him drinke, and drinke, and doe His worst To drowne the wantonnesse of His wild thirst. 5. Now's but the nonage of My paines, My feares Are yett but hopes, weake as my infant yeares. 10 6. The day of My darke woe is yet but morne, My teares but tender, and My death new-borne. 7. Yet may these unfledg'd griefes give fate some guesse, These cradle-torments have their towardnesse.