Satens polycy and enmity. June 22 72
Oh what a subtle enemy
Is Saten, who doth alway pry.
About to see wher he may lurk
And cuningly his mischief work.
He still doth search, & hunt about
If he can but, a hole find out.
He will at the ungaurded part
Be sure to creep, into the hart.
And if possesion he doe get
Hee doth soe strongly, us beset
That out he'l not be, got again
But more, & more, he strives to reign.
Wee may of him truly foretell
Give him an inch, he'l take an ell.
If in our thoughts we once admit
The least of him, down he will sitt.
And draw the soull on by degrees
Until he fill it with the Lees.
Of sin, and frothy vanity
except with heed, wee speedyly.
Cast him out of the hart att first
He'l never leave, untill he thurst.
All that is good, out of the hart
And fill with vanity, each part
If he can come, to wind into
Our words, he will by them break through.
By thesse he gets, a litle hold
And soe by that, he grows more bold.
In duty, he will not stand out
But cuningly, he lurks about.
To see if he can steall away
The hart from god, then he'l esay.
To rob us of the comfort which
Might flow unto us, from the rich.
Incomes of grace, that soe therby
He may make us, in grief to lye.
And if he cant, our thoughts from god
Draw off, then he will subtly plod.
Which way, he may our thoughts unfix
By throwing in, that which may mix.
That soe he may, come to entwine
And cacth us, with his hook and line.
That which he dos aym at hereby
It tis to fill, with Jelousie.
Concerning our eternall state
Whilst we on sin, do ruminate.
Then he rejoyceth when tis thus
And he such fools, hath made of us.
Somtimes he slyly, steals away
Our time from duty, by delay.
That whilst we foolishly doe Joyne
With him, he may from us purloyn
The comfort, which to us, might spring
From duty, whilst imployd therin.
No duty we can goe about
But he will find, some crany out.
In which he creeps, to rob the soull
Of joy, either in part, or whole.
Hee'l suffer us, in good to be
Employ'd somtimes, if that way he.
May keep us off from that which will
our soulls with greater profitt fill,
My soull, oh Lord, I doe commit
Into thy hands, see thou to itt.
That it from him, receive no wrong
Because to thee, it doth belong.
Let evermore, thy wacthfull eye
Safe-gaurd me from this enemy.
Tis only thine omnipotence
Must be my strong, and sure defence.
Untill transplanted up on high
Out of his reach, eternally.
Oh hasten Lord, that blessed day
And fecth me up, out of his way.
Oh what a subtle enemy
Is Saten, who doth alway pry.
About to see wher he may lurk
And cuningly his mischief work.
He still doth search, & hunt about
If he can but, a hole find out.
He will at the ungaurded part
Be sure to creep, into the hart.
And if possesion he doe get
Hee doth soe strongly, us beset
That out he'l not be, got again
But more, & more, he strives to reign.
Wee may of him truly foretell
Give him an inch, he'l take an ell.
If in our thoughts we once admit
The least of him, down he will sitt.
And draw the soull on by degrees
Until he fill it with the Lees.
Of sin, and frothy vanity
except with heed, wee speedyly.
Cast him out of the hart att first
He'l never leave, untill he thurst.
All that is good, out of the hart
And fill with vanity, each part
If he can come, to wind into
Our words, he will by them break through.
By thesse he gets, a litle hold
And soe by that, he grows more bold.
In duty, he will not stand out
But cuningly, he lurks about.
To see if he can steall away
The hart from god, then he'l esay.
To rob us of the comfort which
Might flow unto us, from the rich.
Incomes of grace, that soe therby
He may make us, in grief to lye.
And if he cant, our thoughts from god
Draw off, then he will subtly plod.
Which way, he may our thoughts unfix
By throwing in, that which may mix.
That soe he may, come to entwine
And cacth us, with his hook and line.
That which he dos aym at hereby
It tis to fill, with Jelousie.
Concerning our eternall state
Whilst we on sin, do ruminate.
Then he rejoyceth when tis thus
And he such fools, hath made of us.
Somtimes he slyly, steals away
Our time from duty, by delay.
That whilst we foolishly doe Joyne
With him, he may from us purloyn
The comfort, which to us, might spring
From duty, whilst imployd therin.
No duty we can goe about
But he will find, some crany out.
In which he creeps, to rob the soull
Of joy, either in part, or whole.
Hee'l suffer us, in good to be
Employ'd somtimes, if that way he.
May keep us off from that which will
our soulls with greater profitt fill,
My soull, oh Lord, I doe commit
Into thy hands, see thou to itt.
That it from him, receive no wrong
Because to thee, it doth belong.
Let evermore, thy wacthfull eye
Safe-gaurd me from this enemy.
Tis only thine omnipotence
Must be my strong, and sure defence.
Untill transplanted up on high
Out of his reach, eternally.
Oh hasten Lord, that blessed day
And fecth me up, out of his way.