'Well, yet I am not fully satisfied,

 That this your book will stand, when soundly tried.'

 Why, what's the matter? 'It is dark.' What though?

 'But it is feigned.' What of that? I trow?

 Some men, by feigned words, as dark as mine,

 Make truth to spangle and its rays to shine.

'But they want solidness.' Speak, man, thy mind.

 'They drown the weak; metaphors make us blind.'

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen

 Of him that writeth things divine to men;

 But must I needs want solidness, because

 By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws,

 His gospel laws, in olden times held forth

 By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth

 Will any sober man be to find fault

 With them, lest he be found for to assault

 The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops,

 And seeks to find out what by pins and loops,

 By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams,

 By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs,

 God speaketh to him; and happy is he

 That finds the light and grace that in them be.