Classic Poem

Concerning Sin

Sin is a contrariety,
unto gods holy natture
It makes us lothsome in his eye
who is himself soe pure

Tis contradictory to his will
his law itt doth opose
It is the quintesence of ill
from saten, first it rose.

It bringeth on us, misery
of eve'ry sort, and kinnd,
It subjects unto vanity
and blindnese of the mind.

From god, itt doth us separate
itt makes him hide his face,
Tis a continuall makbate,
hindring, the rays of grace.

Sin in it self, is worse then hell.
for that was made by god,
For pure, & unmixt wrath to dwell,
and be the sinners lott.

Sin like a gangreen, doth begin
first on a single part,
And will not leave, untill itt win
the strong hold, of the hart.

Sin is a cursed leprosie,
which spreadeth all about.
untill each stone, be quite thrown by
it will not, be got out.

Sin is a tirant, and a king
subjecting to its will
Our thoughts, our words, & ev'ry thing
till it with horour fill

Sin is a filthy runing sore
a plauge that stricks the hart
'Cept grace step in twill make thee roar
when thou shalt feell the smart.

Sin is a pousen in the soull
which worketh all about
Defusing it self, through the whole
till death to work it out.

Sin to the elect is grivious
a burden full, of weight
Making them still suspitious
of ther eternall state.

As roten wood, doth naturally
breed in worms which eat in holes
So sin breeds fears, which multiply
for to distract ther souls.

Tis to them, a cruell tirant
acting against their will
Contrary, to their graces bent
it domineereth still

Sin dos imbiter, their short race
Causing them for to groan
Its hots persuits, and eager chase
Still makes them for to moane.

Each sin in us, it dos make way
for a greater to come in
thus itt prevaills and get the day
and footting still doth win.

It greatly dos, harden the hart
searing the conscience
By custome weaking ev'ry part
from making resistence

It is a, troublesome inmate
Which allways goes about
With us, till time wear out of date
When it shall be thurst out.

Christ doth subdue this ennimy
in part, for his, whilst here
And he'l compleat the victory
When fixt in heavens sphere