7. Meditations Upon Peep of Day
t peep of day I often cannot know Whether 'tis night, whether 'tis day or no. I fancy that I see a little light, But cannot yet distinguish day from night; I hope, I doubt, but steady yet I be not, I am not at a point, the sun I see not. Thus such, who are but just of grace possest, They know not yet if they be cursed or blest.
his flint, time out of mind, has there abode, Where crystal streams make their continual road; Yet it abides a flint as much as 'twere, Before it touched the water or came there.
Its hardness is not the least abated, 'Tis not at all by water penetrated. Though water hath a soft'ning virtue in't, It can't dissolve the stone, for 'tis a flint.
Yea, though in the water it doth remain, Its fiery nature still it does retain. If you oppose it with its opposite, Then in your very face its fire 'twill spit.
Comparison.
This flint an emblem is of those that lie, Under the word like stones, until they die. Its crystal streams have not their nature changed, They are not from their lusts by grace estranged.
