Classic Poem

Spirittuall Prid June 20 72

Wouldst thou my soull, a monster see
Of dismall, strang, deformity
Then look, and search about
Untill thou find pride out
That which we call
spirituall.

Ther's no sin soe rediculous
As this which dayly haunteth us
I meane the sin of pride
which in the hart doth hide
and slyly lurks
whilst ther it works.

Thosse that have, the greatest measure
Of true, saving graces tresure
May clearly find, and see
most cause, humble to be
Because they are
in dept farther.

Then other men, in graces book
Which while in itt, they read, and look
They may with wonder stand
'cause they cant comprehand
The reason why
god should them eye.

And upon them, should more bestow
Then upon others, here below
Cut out of the same stone
with them (tis grace alone)
Which should us lay
in dust alway.

What hast thou, that is not receiv'd
Wilt thou be soe, of sence bereiv'd
The giver to forget
whilst thou dost proudly set
Self in the place
of gods free grace.

Is th sun beholding to the earth
Cause by its rays, tis keept from dearth
And by its heat, doth spring
and pleasent fruits, forth bring
For to delight
the fast, and sight.

Prid is a vain, and foolish sin
though whilst in acting pleasure spring
Yet certain greif, and pain
Doth after it remain
When god doth come
to sett it home.

Without influence from above
We cannot ether stir, or move
So dead, at root are we
hoe sap apears cept he
Apon it shine,
by rays devine.

Wilt thou by prid, that grace abuse
Wher by he is, pleased to use
Thee for to glorifie
his name, & bring thee nigh
Unto himself
thy only wealth.

This seed will grow, in graces soyle
And will not out, without turmoyle
But ther it will remain
and spread, & come, to reign
Except with heed,
thou wacth, this weed.

Prid is the greatest enemy
Unto the soull, because therby
It is att distence sett
from that god, infinet
Whose only hand
can make it stand.

Pride is a weed, that smels soe strong
That god will not, endure itt long
But will goe far away
And then we soon decay
but woe, to us
when it is thus.

Oh give me that humility
Which is soe pleasing, in thine eye
And makes me heir unto
thosse rich promises, through
Thy dearest son
my only one.

The humble soull, thou wilt revive
And make it still to grow. and thrive
Thou'lt guide it with thine eye
And keep it carfully
soe that it shall
not catch a fall.

As I from thee, receive each thing
Let me, to thee, the glory bring
And lay all at thy feet
as it is still, most meet
That glory may
be thine all-way.