[OF THE SOULE OF MAN AND THE IMMORTALITE THEREOF.]
The lights of heau'n (which are the World's fair eies)
Looke downe into the World, the World to see;
And as they turne, or wander in the skies,
Suruey all things that on this Center bee.
And yet the lights which in my towre do shine,
Mine eyes which view all obiects, nigh and farre;
Looke not into this little world of mine,
Nor see my face, wherein they fixèd are.
Since Nature failes vs in no needfull thing,
Why want I meanes my inward selfe to see?
Which sight the knowledg of my self might bring,
Which to true wisdome is the first degree.
That Power which gaue me eyes the World to view,
To see my selfe infus'd an inward light;
Whereby my Soule, as by a mirror true,
Of her owne forme may take a perfect sight,
But as the sharpest eye discerneth nought,
Except the sunne-beames in the ayre doe shine;
So the best Soule[87] with her reflecting thought,
Sees not her selfe without some light diuine.
O Light which mak'st the light, which makes the day!
Which setst the eye without, and mind within;
'Lighten my spirit with one cleare heauenly ray,
Which now to view it selfe doth first begin.
For her true forme how can my sparke discerne?
Which dimme by nature, Art did neuer cleare;
When the great wits, of whom all skill we learn,
Are ignorant both what shee is, and where.