IZAAK WALTON AND HIS FRIENDS 239 



The brightness of that day 

 We sullied by our foul offence : 

 Wherefore that robe we cast away, 

 Having a new at His expense, 

 Whose drops of blood paid the full price, 

 That was required to make us gay, 



And fit for Paradise. 



Thou art a day of mirth : 

 And where the week-days trail on ground, 

 Thy flight is higher, as thy birth : 

 O let me take thee at the bound, 

 Leaping with thee from seven to seven, 

 Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, 



Fly hand in hand to heaven ! 



(e) SOME OF SIR HENRY WOTTON'S VERSES 

 A Hymn to my God 



Oh Thou Great Power ! in whom I move, 

 For whom I live, to whom I die, 

 Behold me through Thy beams of love 

 Whilst on this couch of tears I lie ; 



And cleanse my sordid soul within, 

 By Thy Christ's blood, the bath of sin ! 

 No hallowed oils, no grains I need. 

 No rags of saints, no purging fire ; 

 One rosy drop from David's seed, 

 Was worlds of seas to quench Thine ire. 



