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O brook it not! thy bloud is mine,
And my soul should be thine;
O brook it not! why wilt thou stop
After whole showres one drop?
Sure, thou wilt joy to see
Thy sheep with thee.

My God, how gracious art thou! I had slipt Almost to hell,


And on the

verge of that dark, dreadful pit Did hear them yell;

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But O thy love! thy rich, almighty love,
That sav'd my soul,

And checkt their furie, when I saw them move,
And heard them howl!

O my soule comfort, take no more these wayes
This hideous path,

And I will mend my own without delayes,
Cease thou thy, wrath!

I have deserv'd a thick, Egyptian damp,
Dark as my deeds,

Should mist within me, and put out that lamp
Thy spirit feeds;

A darting conscience full of stabs and fears;
No shade but yewgh,

Sullen and sad ecclipses, cloudie spheres,

These are my due.

But He that with his bloud (a price too deere)
My scores did pay,

Bid me, by vertue from him, chalenge here
The brightest day;
Sweet, downie thoughts, soft lily-shades, calm
Joyes full and true,

Fresh, spicie mornings, and eternal beams, —
These are his due!


I HAVE Consider'd it, and find
A longer stay

Is but excus'd neglect. To mind
One path, and stray

Into another, or to none,

Cannot be love:

When shall that traveller come home,
That will not move?

If thou would'st thither, linger not,
Catch at the place;

Tell youth and beauty they must rot,
They're but a case;

Loose, parcell'd hearts will freeze: the sun
With scatter'd locks

Scarce warms, but by contraction

Can heat the rocks.

Call in thy powers; run on, and reach
Home with the light;

Be there before the shadows stretch,
And span up night.

Follow the cry no more: there is
An ancient way

All strewed with flowres and happiness,
And fresh as May;

There turn, and turn no more: let wits
Smile at fair eies

Or lips; but who there weeping sits,
Hath got the prize.


DEAR friend! whose holy ever-living lines
Have done much good

To many, and have checkt my blood,

My fierce, wild blood, that still heaves, and inclines, But is still tam'd

By these bright fires which thee inflam'd; Here I joyn hands, and thrust my stubborn heart Into thy deed,

There from no duties to be freed;

And if hereafter youth or folly thwart

And claim their share,

Here I renounce the pois'nous ware.


ACCEPT, dread Lord, the poore
It is but poore;


Yet through thy mercies may be more.

O thou that canst not wish my soul's damnation ! Afford me life,

And save me from all inward strife!

Two lifes I hold from thee, my gracious Lord; Both cost thee dear:

For one, I am thy tenant here

The other, the true life, in the next world
And endless is,

O let me still mind that in this!

To thee, therefore, my thoughts, words, actions, I do resign;

Thy will in all be done, not mine.

Settle my house, and shut out all distractions
That may unknit

My heart, and thee planted in it;

Lord Jesu! thou didst bow thy blessed head

Upon a tree,

O do as much now unto me!

O hear, and heal thy servant! Lord, strike dead All lusts in me,

Who onely wish life to serve thee! Suffer no more this dust to overflow

And drown my eies;

But seal, or pin them to thy skies.
And let this grain which here in tears I sow,
Though dead and sick,

Through thy increase grow new and quick.


WHEN first thy eies unveil, give thy soul leave
To do the like; our bodies but forerun
The spirit's duty. True hearts spread and heave
Unto their God, as flow'rs do to the sun.

Give him thy first thoughts then; so shalt thou
Him company all day, and in him sleep. [keep

Yet never sleep the sun up. Prayer shou'd Dawn with the day. There are set, awful hours "Twixt heaven and us. The manna was not good After sun-rising; far-day sullies flowres.

Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sins glut, And heaven's gate opens when this world's is shut.

Walk with thy fellow-creatures: note the hush And whispers amongst them. There's not a spring Or leafe but hath his morning hymn. Each bush And oak doth know I am. Canst thou not sing?

O leave thy cares and follies! go this way,
And thou art sure to prosper all the day.

Serve God before the world; let him not go,
Until thou hast a blessing; then resigne
The whole unto him; and remember who
Prevail'd by wrestling ere the sun did shine.

Poure oyle upon the stones; weep for thy sin;
Then journey on, and have an eie to heav'n.

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