If faithful souls be alike glorified

As angels, then my father’s soul doth see,

And adds this even to full felicity,

That valiantly I hell’s wide mouth o’erstride:

But if our minds to these souls be descried

By circumstances, and by signs that be

Apparent in us, not immediately,

How shall my mind’s white truth by them be tried?

They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn,

And vile blasphemous conjurers to call

On Jesus name, and Pharisaical

Dissemblers feigne devotion. Then turn,

O pensive soul, to God, for he knows best

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