English

Satens malice, and the saincts victory

The livly Christian, doth alarm hell
And bring the devill, mad out of his cell
Hee's forct to come, out of his den to see
What is the news, be cannot quiet bee
Let him but see, a Christian march apace
And he'l opose him, to his very face
And call about him, all the pow'rs of hell
To see if he, the pow'r of grace can quell
But god will hear us, when we cry, and quell
And has laid help on one, mighty to save
A legion of these devils, cant withstand

The blessednese of a true Christian sep 26

Oh what a blessed thing it tis to be
A Cristian in truth, and sincerity
That can look death, & danger, in the face
And trample, on the sorrows, of his race
A cristian cares not for the things of time
But can to heaven, in affection climb
If creture comforts doe upon him flow
His hart upon them, he will not bestow
If here hee have not where to lay his head
By faith, hee veiws his mansion prepared
Though cloth'd with rags, & on the dunghill laid

Another to the same purpose

The prience of this world is cast out
Though for a while, he makes a rout
with victory
triumphantly
Christ shall make thee, upon his head
With acclamations, for to tread

This ravaning, devouring, kite
To heaven, cannot take his flight
for to destroy
or thee anoy
Time, and this world's his boundery
He cannot soare above the sky

Wee cant be quiet here below
But he will always att us throw
his fiery darts
to wound our harts

The soull by faith, triumphing over saten, & rejoycing in hopes of future freedome. through Christ alone.

Oh what a reall comfort tis
To think, though Saten, doth here tempt
and seek to foyle
tis but a while
And I shall be, for e're exempt
From all thosse subtletys, of his

In duty here, he will not rest
But att mine elbow, he doth stand
my soull to vex
and it perplex
But when climb'd to the holy land
Hee shall me then, no more molest

He doth whilst here, still evermore

The soull clouded. sep 12 72

Why turnest thou thy face away
On the inshutting of the day

Whilst all things doe in darknese shourd
Thou wrapst thy self, up in a cloud

Thou knowst I cannot be content
Whilst I'me out of thy presence pent

Except upon my soull thou shine
I must have leave, to moane, & pine

Oh shew thy self, to me with speed
Or take mee up that I may feed

My eyes, to satisfaction,
Upon thy well beloved son

When it is with me att the best

enlarged desires after the full enjoyment of god in glory,

My god, my rock. and my fortrese
my sweet salvation
The centor of my hapynese
to thee, I make my moane

Oh pity me, & fecth me hence
for here I live in pain
Whilst in this state, of sad absence
I am forct to remain

What can my lose campensurate
Whilst I'me absent from thee
And cant into imediate
embraces taken be

Ten thousand worlds, away I'de throw
if they were all my own
Provided, I might only know

Meditations on the glory of that day, when all the saints, that ever were are, or shall be shall meet togather sep 10

Oh for that glorious day, we look to see
When all the saincts shall congregated bee
That either shall be, ar, or ever where
To be fixt up, in glorys highest sphere
When earth, and sea, shall both give up their dead
Which in their bowells, have been buried
And shall att once to heaven take their flight
Arayed in their robs, of glory, bright
Soe many saincts, so many shining suns

The soull looking att, and longing for an eternall saboath. sep 8 72

When shall that blessed, saboath morning dawn
That saboath of eternall rest, upon
My soull, that it might sweetly once begin
Thy love, and praise, eternally to sing
That blessed saboath which shall know no night
The Sun of righteousnese, shall be itts light
No sleeping, dresing, eating, in it shall
Steall out a part, away from god, but all
Of it, shall be employ'd to sing his praise
Whillst we sit under his delighting rays

The soull desiring faster growth and speedy ripnese.

That this agrees unto thy will
I am well satisfi'd
That I should climb apace, the hill
wher glory, doth reside.

Thou lovst to see thy plants to thrive.
which ar set by thy hand
And to maturity arive
in this thy lower land.

Unto thy grace. no bound is set
this doth encourage me
To hope, that I, through ev'ry let
may grow up unto thee.

Whatever any have atain'd
that Lord, I will desire
What ever any, might have gaind

sep 4 The soulls Charge drawn up against intruders and compaint to the right owner and Lord of the house.

Cast out intruders, Lord
out of thy dwelling place
I know they ar, by thee abhor'd
and soe by me, through grace.

Thesse inmates doe disturb
I cannot be att rest
They ar thy foes, wilt thou not curb
and of their pow'r divest.

About thy house. they lurk
I cannot quiet be
When I'me employ'd about thy work
they ar disturbing me.

Tis they that break the peace
and make stirs, and uproars