Classic Poem

Life is a crooked Labyrinth, and wee
Are dayly lost in that Obliquity.
'Tis a perplexed Circle, in whose round
Nothing but Sorrowes and new Sins abound.
How is the faint Impression of each good
Drown'd in the vitious Channell of our blood?
Whose Ebbes and Tides by their vicissitude
Both our Great Maker and our selves dilude.
O wherfore is the most discerning Ey
Unapt to make its owne discovery?
Why is the clearest and best judging Mind
In her owne Ill's prevention dark and blind?
Dull to advise, to act præcipitate,
Wee scarce think what wee doe, but when too late.
Or if wee think, that fluid Thought like Seed
Rotts there to propagate some fouler deed.
Still wee Repent and Sin; Sin and Repent;
Wee thaw and freeze, wee harden and relent.
Those Fires which cool'd to day, the Morrowe's heat
Rekindles. Thus fraile Nature does repeat
What Shee unlearn't; and still by learning on
Perfitts her Lesson of Confusion.
Sick Soule! what Cure shall I for thee devise
Whose Leaprous State corrupts all Remedyes?
What Med'cine or what Cordiall can be gott
For thee, who poysonst thy best Antidot?
Repentance is thy bane: since thou by it
Only revivst the fault thou didst committ.
Nor grievst thou for the past, but art in paine
For feare thou mayst not act it o're againe.
So that thy Teares, like Water spilt on Lime,
Serve not to quench, but to advance the Crime.
My Blessed Saviour! unto Thee I fly
For help against this home-bred tyranny.
Thou canst true Sorrowes in my Soule imprint,
And draw Contrition from a breast of flint.
Thou canst reverse this Labyrinth of Sinne
My wild Affects and Actions wander in.
O guide my Faith! and by thy Grace's Clew
Teach mee to hunt that Kingdome at the view
Where true Joyes reigne; which, like their Day, shall last;
Those never clouded, nor. That Overcast.