Classic Poem

Could but a Glance of that bright City fair,
Whose walls are sparkling, Pretious Stones, whose Gates
Bright pollisht Splendent Pearls, Whose Porters are
Swash Flaming Angells, and Whose Streets rich Plates
Of pure transparent Gold, mine Eyes enjoy,
My Ravisht heart on Raptures Wings would fly.

My Lumpish Soule, enfir'd with such bright flame
And Quick'ning influences of this Sight
Darting themselves throughout my drossy frame
Would jump for joy, and sing with greate delight
To thee, my Lord, who deckst thy Royall Hall,
With glorious Mansions for thy Saints even all.

Thy Lower House, this World well garnished
With richest Furniture of Ev'ry kinde
Of Creatures of each Colours varnished
Most glorious, a Silver Box of Winde.
The Crystall Skies pinkt with Sun, Moon, and Stars
Are made its Battlements on azure Spars.

But on these Battlements above, thoust placdst
Thy Upper House, that Royall Palace town,
In which these Mansions are, that made thou hast
For Saints and Angells Dwellings of renown.
Should we suppose these mansions, Chambers neate
Like ours, 't would sordid be, not fit this Seate.

But if these Mansions, built so very bright
Beyond the worlds Bright Battlements, yet should
Be of materialls Celestiall right
Streets of such Houses, of transparent gold
For Saints and Angells to possess in Glory's
Would they unfit thy Upper House as Stories.

Though we can't ken these Mansions, now, yet this
Our Faith doth dwell upon while on this Shore
That there are Mansions, in Celestiall Bliss
For Saints and Angells t'dwell in evermore.
Then cheer up, Soule, and take the Kings path brave
Unto these Mansions promises do pave.

Bright Jasper Hall Walld with translucid gold,
Floors pav'd with Pearls, to these are durty Sells.
Then what bright lives ought all men here uphold
That hope within these mansions ere to dwell?
Adorne my Soule, Lord, with thy Graces here
Till by their Shine, I'm fitted to dwell there.

Let as I bring thy Glory home, in mee
Grace shine, and me thy paths tread pav'de with jems,
Unto thy house, wherein these Mansions bee,
And let mee dwell within their Curtain Hems.
Thy Praise shall then my Virginalls inspire
To play a Michtam on her golden wyer.