Classic Poem

The devills picture, June 25

Why lookst thou, with a grudging eye
On those, that have atainments high
This weed, impure
god wont endure

Shall worthlese clay, att him repine
Who seeth fitt for to refine
thosse, hee intends
for higher ends

Why wouldst thou have, none better then
Thy self, among the sons, of men
Sure this doth smell
too strong of hell.

What wouldst thou shine, thy self alone
And in the world, wouldst thou have none
with thee to vie
for sanctity

Why fearest thou, others should be
More holy, then thy self, and see
more of the love
of god, above

Oh what art thou, thus to aspire
Who art far worse, then durt, and mire
unworthy of
a look of love

Oh Saten, I doe somtimes see
My self, by this, soe like to thee
that I doe hate.
my self, and state

And if I knew, which way to run,
From itt, away, I would be gone,
This dismall sight,
itt doth, soe fright.