20. Dialogue

Man

SWEETEST Saviour, if my soul

Were but worth the having,

Quickly should I then controll

Any thought of waving.

But when all my cares and pains

Cannot give the name of gains

To Thy wretch so full of stains,

What delight or hope remains?

Saviour

What, childe, is the ballance thine,

Thine the poise and measure?

If I say, ‘Thou shalt be Mine,’

Finger not My treasure.

What the gains in having thee

Do amount to, onely He

Who for man was sold can see;

That transferr’d th’ accounts to Me.

Man

But as I can see no merit

Leading to this favour,

So the way to fit me for it

Is beyond my savour.

As the reason, then, is Thine,

So the way is none of mine:

I disclaim the whole designe;

Sinne disclaims and I resigne.

Saviour

That is all:—if that I could

Get without repining;

And My clay, My creature, would

Follow my resigning;

That as I did freely part

With my glorie and desert,

Left all joyes to feel all smart—

Man

Ah, no more: Thou break’st my heart.