Upon Tears

The tears of saints more sweet by far
Than all the songs of sinners are.

Our present tears here, not our present laughter,
Are but the handsels of our joys hereafter.

God from our eyes all tears hereafter wipes,
And gives His children kisses then, not stripes.

Tears most prevail; with tears, too, thou may'st move
Rocks to relent, and coyest maids to love.

Upon her cheeks she wept, and from those showers
Sprang up a sweet nativity of flowers.

She by the river sat, and sitting there,
She wept, and made it deeper by a tear.