Classic Poem

Make me thy Spinning Wheele of use for thee,
Thy Grace my Distaffe, and my heart thy Spoole.
Turn thou the wheele: let mine Affections bee
The flyers filling with thy yarne my soule.
Then weave the web of Grace in mee, thy Loome
And Cloath my soule therewith, its Glories bloome.

Make mee thy Loome: thy Grace the warfe therein,
My duties Woofe, and let thy word winde Quills.
The shuttle shoot. Cut off the ends my sins.
Thy Ordinances make my fulling mills,
My Life thy Web: and cloath me all my dayes
With this Gold-web of Glory to thy praise.

Make me thy Spinning Wheele of use for thee,
Thy Grace my Distaffe, and my heart thy Spoole.
Turn thou the wheele: let mine Affections bee
The flyers filling with thy yarne my soule.
Then weave the web of Grace in mee, thy Loome
And Cloath my soule therewith, its Glories bloome.

Make mee thy Loome: thy Grace the warfe therein,
My duties Woofe, and let thy word winde Quills.
The shuttle shoot. Cut off the ends my sins.
Thy Ordinances make my fulling mills,
My Life thy Web: and cloath me all my dayes
With this Gold-web of Glory to thy praise.