Classic Poem

more to the same purpose

He that hath said, it is but yet
A litle while. & then I come
He will not soe his word forget
As not to fecth his banish'd home.

Although to thee, a thousand yeers
Ar in thy sight, but as a day
Yet thou dost know a day apears
To me a yeer, in the delay.

Of that which I, doe still desire
The full enjoyment, of, thy self
The only, object, I admire
My god, my rock, and saving health.

Oh that thou wouldest march apace
Over the ruged coasts of time
That I with joy, may see thy face
And bath in seas, of love devine.