English

May 12 73

My soull, art heaven-born then be sublime
And up unto itt, in affection climb

Thou wert not made, in dunghills for to rake
But of the devine nature, to pertake

The world shall shortly, in whit ashes lye
With all its beauty, and its braviry

Oh wilt thou fix thine. hart, and and eye upon
That which shall soe soon, wear out, & be gone.

And not with care, and diligence make sure
Of a crown, and kingdome. which shall still endure

may 7 73 Faiths triumph, over temptation.

Whilst by temptation, I am tri'd
I shall from drose, be purifi d'

When, thou shalt bring, me forth as gold
Thy meaning I shall then unfold

Ther's no afliction, that doth seem
Joyous, att present, nay we deem

It griveous, although therby
Thou dost refine, and purifie

Tis Sattens busy time, and hee
Will not, one moment, Idle bee

The neerer his time's att an end
The thicker he his darts will send

To keep from heaven hel endevour

The soull complaint, being greatly perplexed. May 6:73

What cloudynese, hath me possest
What dis-mall fears, do fill my breast

What Jealousies, doth me surround
And cause my greif, for to abound

Love unto Christ, is cal'd self love
And that which came not, from above

Sence of sloth, and, cecurity
Augments, my fears, and Jealousies

Saten, doth Joyne, his force, with fear
No Joy, or comfort, doth apear

I think that alls, hipocrisie
Soe fair, and spleanded, to the eye

The sweet benefitts, that flow from union with Christ. sep 22 72

From union, with our deerest head, & king
Most sweet comunion doth unto us, spring
By union tis, we doe atam to this
Still to pertake with Christ, of what is his
The soull, and body, of a true, sincere
Beleiver, now is Christs, by indenture
And tearms, of firm, agreement which we make
When we do him, as Lord, and Saviour, take
And ar by pow'r, and vertue of the godhead
Unto his humane nature united
This blessed union, it is misticall

mr H

My soull doth pine, and long, to be
Transplanted, Lord, up unto thee.

Tis litle here, that I can get
And that doth but, my hunger whet.

My sins, doe cause thee frequently
To hide thy face, and from me fly.

But faith, would venture unto thee
Knowing in heaven I shall see.

Thy face, and have my fill of love
Which makes me long, for my remove.

Sin as a clog, whilst here, I bear
And as an Iron chain, I wear.

Oh that thou wouldst lifes knot unty

febru: 11 72/3

Oh blessed day, when I shall still
Have my heart suted to my work
And my work, suted to thy will
Noe backwardnese, shall in me lurk
This will not be whilst I am here
Untill I move, in glorys spher.

What ar the comforts here below
I cannot Lord, upon them live
Nothing, but what from thee doth flow
Can satisfaction, to me give
Poure of thy fullnese, upon me
Or call me hence, to live with thee.

I am tormented, with desire
For that, which heaven only brings

dedication,

My hart dear Lord, itt is thine own
thou disdst itt make
Tis thine I say, and thine alone
Oh let it of thy grace pertake
and beautifie
it from on high

Thou calst for it, & here, I give
it up to thee
Oh let thy spirit, in it live
And purg out sin, that it may be
the dwelling place
of love, and grace.

Acept the dedication
of this my hart
And lett it be to me made known
by glorys filling ev'ry part
thy love display
on it alway.

The souls complaint sep 27 72

Thou'lt scarsly let me look
but clapst the door too
And leavest not a hole, or nook
at which I may, look through
Thou givest me a tast
and drawst away, in hast.

I cannot have my fill
of what, I somtimes see
That is reserv'd for Zion hill
then thou wilt satiete me
Oh let me, swiftly fly
Unto that mountain, high.

This is our sowing time
we may not reap, as yet
Tis well if we, before we climb
a sheaf of glory gett

September 25 72

Why sittst thou musing thus
my soull a-way
All cretures, ar not worth a rush
compared with one ray
Which from the sun of righteousnese
Doth dart, upon the comfortlese.

Arise, my soull, arise.
here's not thy rest
Tread under foot, earths vanitys
and hasten to thy nest
Of sweetnese, where, thou hapst to ly
Secure, to all eternity.

Why standst thou Idle here
Arise, be gone
The day in which thou must apear

Concerning the precyousnese of time.

Oh time, oh time, that precyous thing
How doe we wast
thee. though with hast
Thou fly'st away, upon the wing
To eternity vast

Wee cannot call thee, back again
yet down we sitt
and intermitt
Our work, by Childish toys, most vain
which cannot benefitt

What ever tis wee ar about
time will not stay
But posts away
And our short sandglase, runeth out
whether we work, or play

Our day is short, our work is great
what need have we