"Since I am coming to that holy room, Where, with Thy Choir of Saints, for evermore I shall be made Thy music, as I come I tune my instrument here at the door, And, what I must do then, think here before. "Since my Physicians by their loves are grown Cosmographers; and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed"So, in His purple wrapt, receive my Lord! By these His thorns, give me His other Crown And, as to other souls I preach'd Thy word, Be this my text, my sermon to mine own, 'That He may raise; therefore the Lord throws down.'"