But we have hands, and lips, and eyes, And hearts and souls can sacrifice; And souls themselves are made in vain If we our evil stubbornness retain. Affections, praises, are the things For which He gave us all those springs; They are the very fruits Of all those trees and roots, The fruits and ends of all His great endeavours, Which He abolisheth whoever severs. VI 'Tis not alone a lively sense, A clear and quick intelligence, A free, profound, and full esteem; Tho' these elixirs all and ends do seem: But gratitude, thanksgiving, praise, A heart returned for all those joys, These are the things admired, These are the things by Him desired: These are the nectar and the quintessence, The cream and flower that most affect His sense. VII The voluntary act whereby These are repaid is in His eye More precious than the very sky. All gold and silver is but empty dross, Rubies and sapphires are but loss, The very sun, and stars and seas Far less His spirit please: One voluntary act of love Far more delightful to His soul doth prove, And is above all these as far as love. ANOTHER I He seeks for ours as we do seek for His; Nay, O my Soul, ours is far more His bliss Than His is ours; at least it so doth seem Both in His own and our esteem: II His earnest love, His infinite desires, His living, endless, and devouring fires, Do rage in thirst and fervently require A love 'tis strange it should desire. III We cold and careless are, and scarcely think Upon the glorious spring whereat we drink. Did He not love us we could be content: We wretches are indifferent! IV He courts our love with infinite esteem, And seeks it so that it doth almost seem Even all His blessedness. His love doth prize It as the only Sacrifice. V 'Tis death, my soul, to be indifferent, Set forth thyself unto thy whole extent, And all the glory of His passion prize, Who for thee lives, who for thee dies. VI His goodness made thy love so great a pleasure, His goodness made thy soul so great a treasure To thee and Him: that thou mightst both inherit, Prize it according to its merit. VII There is no goodness nor desert in thee, For which thy love so coveted should be; His goodness is the fountain of thy worth; O live to love and set it forth. VIII