Classic Poem

Mixt desires

Thou sitst between the Cherubims
Surounded with the Seraphims
Ther angels see thy face
Oh that I had the wings of love
Then would I flee, to god above
Be'ing filled with thy grace

Oh help my weary, restlese soull,
By steady faith, on thee to rowll
This is the work of heaven
Such soulls may surely come to thee
As poor, & blind, & empty bee
Self righteousnese, would leaven

A sacrifice Lord, I would offer
But I have none, that's worth the profer
Thou calest for my hart
My hart dear Lord, take it to thee
Oh that it were from sin made free
Sorow to Joy, this would convert

Arise, be gone, mount up my soull
Scorning in earths black durt to roull
Soe Lord thou knowest I would
A hart burning in flames of love
Send quikly to, thy god above
Oh that in truth, I could

Stand off then from the world, & cretures
Be blind to all their lovly features
They will but doe thee harm
Att best the world's a pousen'd bait
Take warning e're, it be to late
Let not its beauty Charm

Oh teach me Lord, the holy art
To set this world far from my hart
Then may I, to it say
My hart's reserved for another
Dearer to mee, then any brother
You may, then goe your way