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.