Whatever future sins should me miscall, Your first acquaintance might discredit all. HOLY BAPTISM. SINCE, Lord, to Thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage, on my infancy Thou didst lay hold, and antedate O let me still Write Thee great God, and me a child: Let me be soft and supple to thy will, Small to myself, to others mild, Behither ill. Although by stealth My flesh get on; yet let her sister, My soul, bid nothing, but preserve her wealth: The growth of flesh is but a blister; Childhood is health. NATURE. FULL of rebellion, I would die, That Thou hast aught to do with me. O tame my heart; It is Thy highest art To captivate strongholds to Thee. If Thou shalt let this venom lurk, And thence by kind Making Thy workmanship deceit. O smooth my rugged heart, and there Is sapless grown, And a much fitter stone To hide my dust than Thee to hold. SIN. LORD, with what care hast Thou begirt us round, Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness, Yet all these fences and their whole array AFFLICTION. WHEN first Thou didst entice to Thee my heart, I thought the service brave: So many joys I writ down for my part, Besides what I might have Out of my stock of natural delights, I looked on Thy furniture so fine, And made it fine to me; Thy glorious household-stuff did me entwine, Such stars I counted mine: both heaven and earth Paid me my wages in a world of mirth. What pleasures could I want whose King I served, Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place, At first Thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses; My days were strew'd with flowers and happiness; But with my years sorrow did twist and grow, My flesh began unto my soul in pain, Sicknesses clave my bones, Consuming agues dwell in every vein, And tune my breath to groans: Sorrow was all my soul; I scarce believed, Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived. When I got health, Thou took'st away my life, Thus thin and lean, without a fence or friend, Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town; Thou didst betray me to a lingering book, I was entangled in the world of strife, Yet, for I threaten'd oft the siege to raise, Not simpering all mine age, Thou often didst with academic praise Melt and dissolve my rage. I took Thy sweeten'd pill, till I came near; Yet lest perchance I should too happy be Turning my purge to food, Thou throwest me Into more sicknesses. Thus doth Thy power cross-bias me, not making Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking. Now I am here, what Thou wilt do with me None of my books will show : |