Classic Poem

Contentation.

A will that's fully swalowed
Up in the will of god.
Is with most sweet contentment Led
what ever is its lot

And what-ere its condition be
Whether tis good, or bad
It is from all, repining free
and is not over sad

Its always, in a well pleas'd frame
whatever befalls it
He knows, tis god orders the same
and att the sterne doth sit

It dos know no will of its own
in gods will it is lost
What ever is by its god done
Its will, cannot be crost

Ask such a soull what it would have
what god will give, saith it
Thesse outward things, I will not crave
he knows what's for me fit

If providence, doe on it smile
then thankfull it will be
And if it frown, (within a while)
from grudging, it is free

It doth beleive practically
and on this it doth rest
It saith god is, wiser then I
and acts all, for the best

Contentment sweetly, fitts the soull
for each condition
And keeps itt, that itt, cannot prole
from its fixt station.

Ther, is no sin, makes us soe like
saten as discontent
By it we run upon the pike
of wrath, and punishment

Is gods will thine, then thou'rt like to
the angels that doe stand
With bended wills, to run, and doe
all that god, doth command

Douptlese, this is the sweetest life
that is under the sun
It frees us, from, all inward strife
whilst in our race, wee run

Wouldst thou then learn, this holy art
my soull, then goe to Christ
And beg of him, a weaned hart
from things, and persons pris'd

A hart that's fully set, and bent
on any thing below
Christ, will not come to be content
When god cals, to lett goe