Classic Poem

The soull expostulating with it self because of anxtious thoughts.

What meanst thou thus my soull to rove
From god, by vanity
Who is the object of thy love
wher thou mayst fix thine eye.

Why porst thou on afliction
before itt come att thee
Why dost tormentingly, think on
thosse things, that nere may be.

Do but believe, and thou art safe
all things ar for thee best
Art tossed by a bousterous wave
t'shall waft thee, to thy rest.

Why dost thou take up one hard thought
of god, as if he would
Forsake the work, that he hath wrought
or prove unfaithfull, could.

Why then dost thou, soe terifie
thy self, with this sad news
Time will be long, before that I
of Crist, shall take full veiws

How knowst thou that, who told thee soe
thy day may quikly end
When grace is ripe, he'l strik the blow
and then, thou shalt ascend.

Why dotst thy sin. soe much affright
and make thee quite, to sink
As if thou wert, cast out of sight
and now, on ruines brink

Is not the cov'nant firm, and sure
why dost thou not beleive
His love, it doth, and shall endure
he will from sin, repreive

Why drawst thou sad conclusions
from sin, because not dead
And when temptation, on thee throngs
forgeting Christ, thy head

Why dost torment thy self, my soull
with future sad events.
Ar thou not bid, on god to roll
thy self, & concernments.

What if he should, dear freinds hence call
and leave not one, to thee
If thou hast him, then thou hast all
and mayst, contented bee

Thy god's a god, of tender love
hee'l not on thee, lay more
Then thou canst bear, but will remove
thee to a fuller store.