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
Though as to others, I should bee
as one dead, and forgot.

Weare not thy glory, concerned
it weare a matter small
Though I were in, mens eyes as dead
and soe forgot, by all.

Yet tis our highest, honour Lord
to glorifie thy name
Whilst we ar here, & to record
thy glory, & thy fame.

Let me shine, by devine emprese
of holy nese, & grace,
and let it be, my constant drese
till I shall see, thy face.

The things of this life, do thou give
to those that them desire
Let my sins dy, my graces live
and lett me still, climb high'r.

In this my day, or rather night
let holy nese in me,
Bee still a constant growing light
to lead many, to thee.

I would be like, the violet
which casts a fragrent smell
yet downwards. always bends the head
and lowlyly, doth dwell.

Or like unto some friutfull tree
on which mine eye, I lend
And then, its fruitfull boughs I see
by weight of fruit, to bend.

The more grace, that thou dost bestow
the more reason have I
My self down att thy feet to throw
and in the dust, to lye.

I still desire, upon the score
to run, in graces dept
It will encrease thy praise, the more
when I, to heaven gett.