Temple

With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe, Joseph, turn back ; see where your child doth sit, Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit, Which Himself on the doctors did bestow. The Word but lately could not speak, and lo ! It suddenly speaks wonders ; whence comes it, That all which was, and all which should be writ, A shallow seeming child should deeply know ? His Godhead was not soul to His manhood, Nor had time mellow'd Him to this ripeness ; But as for one which hath a long task, 'tis good, With the sun to begin His business, He in His age's morning thus began, By miracles exceeding power of man.