Classic Poem

longings to be gone

Oh when shall I, hoyst sayll, and goe
Out of this world, of sin, and woe

To my redeemer, and my king
His praise eternally, to sing

Among the spirits, up above
Who allways, move, and act, in love

That in thy praises, I may soare
And with them, learn how to adore

Oh be not angry, cause I cry
To be transplanted up on high

It is thy love, that draweth me
And makes me long thy face to see

Those that ar parents, will pase by
Thosse faults, they in, ther Children spy

When they do know t'was only love
That did iregularly move

Making them ayme, att things not fitt
As yet for Childish, unripe, wit

Thou art Lord, more compationet
And surely wilt comiserate

Nott Charging that on me, as sin
Which thou dost see, from love to spring

Lead me, through, this imperfect state
That I submisivly, may wait

The days, of my apounted Change
Then in thy love, I still shall range.