[The Synagogue, or The Shadow of the Temple. Sacred Poems and Private
Ejaculations. In imitation of Mr. George Herbert. The fourth Edition
corrected and enlarged. London, Printed for Philemon Stephens, at the
guilded Lyon in St. Pauls Churchyard, 1661. p. 67.]



_To my Reverend Friend the Author of the Synagogue._

Sir,

I lov'd you for your Synagogue, before
I knew your person; but now love you more;
Because I find
It is so true a picture of your mind:
Which tunes your sacred lyre
To that eternal quire;
Where holy _Herbert_ fits
(O shame to prophane wits)
And sings his and your Anthems, to the praise
Of Him that is the first and last of daies.

These holy Hymns had an Ethereal birth:
For they can raise sad souls above the earth
And fix them there
Free from the worlds anxieties and fear.
_Herbert_ and you have pow'r
To do this: ev'ry hour