Thomas Brightman

Over his head are these sad rimes (I hope they are Oxford, though not too much for the honour of it). Christ calls his churches candlesticks of old, Altho the candlesticks but the candles hold. The lights on them he calls angels pure, Not barely candles, for those must endure. Candles when burnt out are soon forgotten, But ministers, as angels, must not rot. Sith God does ministers so eternize, Let not us mortals give them lower prize. And specially to Brightman's recommandacion And be entomed a light to th' revelation We must, we ought, to make such saints last In whom we know the times to come and past.