Classic Poem

our mistakes for want of skill in the methouds of the spirit in the actings of grace from whence proceeds trouble.

We fill our selfs with fear
And restlese, soull perplexety
Because we do not wisly eye
considering what is
Gods dealings here, with his
We look for god, & find him nott
Our ignorance doth so besott
Though he to us draw neer

We would be drawing lines
And boldly choking out the way
In which he should himself display
we this way look, and pore
whilst att another door
He doth come in, & yet we flee
Away, & cry, it is not hee
'cept when the spirit shines

Somtimes in duty we
Do look for brokenese of hart
Litle of this, he doth impart
In steed of this, he doth
faith, in high acts draw forth
Or else he doth desires extend
And make them strongly, to him bend
Hee's in his actings free

When we hope to find in
Duty, our harts with love, enflam'd
In steed of this, we ar asham'd
that we love him, no more
whom angels, do adore
And we ar brought in dust to lye
From sence of want, & poverty
and this from him, doth spring

Somtimes he sees it fit
To disapoint us in desire
That we his counsels, may admire
we look much joy, to find
and sorrow, fils our mind
In this, ther is as much of him
As when with joy, fil'd to the brim
Though we do, so slight it

When we doe cry, & call
And think streight to be answered
We'r only; with deniells fed
Tis fit, that thou shouldst carve
and to thy self, reserve
The liberty, to deall with thine
As thou seest good, who wilt refine
and do them good, by all

Doe as thou wilt, oh lord
but this one thing, I will desire
That I may dayly, grow up high'r
Untill I come to thee
Where I shall fully see
And veiw the products of thy love
In the Herusalem above
whilst I thy praise record

Oh give to me whilst here
So much, that through thy grace I may
Thy love, & bounty; still display
that others they may be
drawn, to run after thee
Oh let me always run apace
Untill I end my weary race
and see my saviour deer