English

The soull under fears of hipocrisie, sees itt need of examination, both from scripture, from the deceitfullnese of the hart, and from the fair shews of many that have been deceived. september 4 72

What need hast thou with speed
To search about with heed
and industry
Still warily
Least thou shouldst be out in thy way
Twill be to late, another day.

All that doth glister is
Not gold, but false varnish
thou'lt bear no weight
if counterfeight
The foolish may walk with the wise
Deceiving them by there disguise.

I cant but pationetly long
for that most wellcome day
When I shall sing this blessed song
and shall triumphing say.
Oh death where is thy victory
oh grave, where is thy sting
Thou hast made me, compleatly
A victor, through my king.

And that not only over death
but over sin, and hell
Which frequently, prevaileth
O'r'e me whilst here I dwell.

septem 3 72

thou seest itt fitt, to keep me low
That pride, may not upon me grow.

Because I have not what I would
I am, by mine own thoughts befool'd.

And look upon thee as my foe
Because att once, all doth not flow.

To satisfaction, of desires
Saten, with unbeleife, conspires.

To rob me of, the comfort which
Would flow unto me from the rich.

Beginnings, of thy grace, in me
Which shall att last, perfected be.

How ready, am I to take part

Love, September 1 72

Ther is one thing, which I would crave
The which alone, if I might have
it would sufice
And be my heaven, upon earth
Keeping my soull, free from all dearth
Love, is the grace I prize.

T'would be a heav'n in midst of hell
If love enflam'd, in me might dwell
give that to me
And then I shall not, will not care
For this worlds, overgiulded ware
but shall hasten to thee.

Love would my soull from self unty
And teach it sweetly, to deny
it self in what

The soull under the distempers of its body releives it self, by eyeing its future glory, and freedome.

How doth this mouldring tent of clay
retard the soull, whilst here
In its progresive, holy way
by breaches that apear.

But when to heaven, it shall get
It then shall freely soare
The body, then shall be a let
unto the soull no more.

No pained head, or akeing hart
Shall indispose thee then
To sing his praise, or act thy part
among the sons of men.

No malencholy, in thee there

upon parting with a deer freind brother Gilbert, July 26 72

What ar the comforts of this life
For which poor mortals, are att strife

Wee can enjoy them but a while
although they on us seem, to smile.

They'r like unto a suden blast
Which flameth up, & then in hast.

It goeth out, & leaves behind
sadnese, and darknese on the mind.

We joy a litle in a freind
But oh how soon, this joy doth end.

They do'nt so much refresh the hart
As gaule when we from them do part.

The souls. all, in another world July 22 72

My countrey's in another world
when shall I to it goe
Why am I soe far from it hurl'd
by unbeliefe, my foe
As that I cannot think
thou wilt my chain, unlink.

My dear relations there doe dwell
my best freinds, are above
How can it then, with me be well
till I to them, remove
from this dark, irksome cell
Wher-in, whilst here I dwell.

My god, and father he is there
how can I chouse, but moane
Till I come to breath in that ayre

The soull eyeing the beauty of much grace, & deep humilyty, breaths after such a frame.

Adde still to grace, in this my race
that I may still advance
And soe may dayly, grow apace
both in the root, and branch.

And with it give humility
to ly under thy foot
That whilst the top, sprouts up on high
I may grow att the root.

The better others, of me think
the more low let me ly
Ther good opinion I would wink
in'to worthlese, vanity.

Oh let me be aprov'd by thee
and then it matters not

The souls comfort only from free grace.

Tis well for me
thy grace is free
Or else what hope had I
When on death bed I ly
Ready from hence, to take my flight
Unto the awefull Judg, of right.

The best duty
that ever I
Perform'd is not so free
from sin, but I may see
Enough in itt to make me dwell
For ever, in the Lowest hell,

Grace in high art
is imperfect
Coruption that doth weave
If self with it, and leave
Such durt, and filth behind that we

Infinet power, & wisdome in bringing so much good to the soull, out of the greatest of evills. sin.

Sometimes I cant but wonder why
Thou shouldst in us leave any sin
Seeing thou couldst, as easily
Att first full pow'r o're itt give in
Into thy counsels deep
we may not to far peep.

But that which we doe plainly see
We may take notise of, and say
Tis for the glory, of thy free
Grace, which thou dost therby display
Whilst thou dost multiply
new pardons, from on high.