A Thanksgiving to God for His House

Lord, Thou hast given me a cellWherein to dwell;An little house, whose humble roofIs weather-proof;Under the spars of which I lie5Both soft and dry;Where Thou my chamber for to wardHast set a guardOf harmless thoughts, to watch and keepMe, while I sleep.10Low is my porch as is my fate,Both void of state;And yet the threshold of my doorIs worn by'th' poor,Who thither come, and freely get15Good words, or meat;Like as my parlour, so my hallAnd kitchen's small;A little butterie and thereinA little bin,20Which keeps my little loaf of breadUnchipp'd, unflay'd;Some brittle sticks of thorn or briarMake me a fire,Close by whose living coal I sit,25And glow like it.Lord, I confess too, when I dine,The pulse is Thine,And all those other bits that beThere plac'd by Thee;30The worts, the purslain, and the messOf water-cress,Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent;And my contentMakes those, and my beloved beet,35To be more sweet.'Tis Thou that crown'st my glitt'ring hearthWith guiltless mirth;And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,Spic'd to the brink.40Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping handThat soils my land;And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,Twice ten for one;Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay45Her egg each day;Besides my healthful ewes to bearMe twins each year;The while the conduits of my kineRun cream (for wine.)50All these, and better Thou dost sendMe, to this end,That I should render, for my part,A thankful heart,Which, fir'd with incense, I resign55As wholly Thine;But the acceptance, that must be,My Christ, by Thee.