Satanical injections foul
Shall not undo thy godly Soul.
That them bewails, resists, and hates,
Nor need such question their estates.

1

I may not here neglect
Another case to mind,
Wherewith some precious Souls to be
Full sore agriev'd I find:
A case calamitous,
Beyond the help of man;
For out of Satans deadly gripe
Christ only rescue can.

2

Blasphemous hellish thoughts
Into his mind are cast
Concerning God; which make him quake,
And stand like one agast
Imaginations black,
And Fancies filthy foul
Are darted in with violence,
Which stab him to the Soul.

3

Which way soe're he turns
His Understanding's ey,
Think what he will, these fancies vile
Do meet him presently
Poor Soul he them resists
And struggleth as for life:
But yet he cannot keep them out
By all his care and strife.

4

The more he with them strives,
The more they wound and vex him:
The more he dreads and feareth them,
The worse they do perplex him
And when he meditates
Or prayes to God for grace,
Then most of all such horrid thoughts
Do stare him in the face.

5

This makes him dread to pray,
Or read, or meditate,
Because such thoughts mix with his prayers,
As God he knows doth hate
For all these Blasphemies
And thoughts that Hell suggests,
He judgeth them his own hearts sins
Although he them detests.

6

Experience daily shews
It may befall a Saint
To be thus dogg'd with Hell's black Hounds
Until he almost faint
And barely this to know,
That ever any were
Thus exercis'd that feared God,
May mitigate thy fear.

7

It yields us some support
To know we're not alone,
But that through such a dismal way
Some have before us gone
But for to come more near,
And speak unto thy grief
What in a few lines may be spoke,
The answer is in brief:

8

Such thoughts how vile soever
And full of Blasphemy,
They are no further our own sins
Then we with them comply
They are the Devils sins,
And his suggestions soul,
Not thine who mournest under them
And hat'st them with they soul.

9

Be not discouraged;
God will not them impute
To thee, but unto him who doth
Those poisoned Arrows shoot
But, oh thou wilt complain,
My heart is tinder-like
As prone and ready to take fire,
As Satan is to strike.

10

Well, let it humble thee
To feel a treacherous part:
A sinful Self; a wicked Flesh
Remaining in my heart
Yet for thy comfort know,
Thou hast not lost the field,
So long as thou do'st sin resist,
And striveth not to yield.

11

Are wicked thoughts thy load
And heavy burden still,
From which thou longest to be freed
As from the greatest ill?
The Lord is nearer thee
Then thou art well aware:
He keeps thee that thou art not caught
By Satans deadly snare.

12

Yea though Temptations strong
May thee sometimes surprise;
If by Repentance from thy falls
God helps thee to arise;
Fear not, all turns to gain;
For God is purify'd,
And loseth nothing, but its dross,
By being often try'd.

13

Christ hath the Devil fast,
And holds him in a Chain,
And that he may not swallow thee
He doth him still restrain.
He can no longer vex thee
Then Christ shall him permit
Who will in season take him off,
When he shall see most fit.