Wee'had had a Saint, have now a holiday.
45Her heart was that strange bush, where, sacred fire,
Religion, did not consume, but'inspire
Such piety, so chast use of Gods day,
That what we turne to feast, she turn'd to pray,
And did prefigure here, in devout tast,
50The rest of her high Sabaoth, which shall last.
Angels did hand her up, who next God dwell,
(For she was of that order whence most fell)
Her body left with us, lest some had said,