If faithfull soules be alike glorifi'd

As Angels, then my fathers soule doth see,

And adds this even to full felicitie,

That valiantly I hels wide mouth o'rstride:

But if our mindes to these soules be descry'd　

By circumstances, and by signes that be

Apparent in us, not immediately,

How shall my mindes white truth by them be try'd?

They see idolatrous lovers weepe and mourne,

And vile blasphemous Conjurers to call　

On Iesus name, and Pharisaicall

Dissemblers feigne devotion. Then turne

O pensive soule, to God, for he knowes best

Thy true griefe, for he put it in my breast.