The Church Floore

Mark you the floore? that square and speckled stone,
Which looks so firm and strong,
Is Patience:
And th'other black and grave, wherewith each one
Is checker'd all along,
Humilitie:
The gentle rising, which on either hand
Leads to the quire above,
Is Confidence:
But the sweet cement, which in one sure band
Ties the whole frame, is Love
And Charitie.
Hither sometimes Sinne steals, and stains
The marble's neat and curious veins;
But all is cleansed when the marble weeps.
Sometimes Death, puffing at the doore,
Blows all the dust upon the floore:
But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps.
Blest be the Architect, whose art
Could build so strong in a weak heart.