Classic Poem

That childish thoughts such joys inspire
Doth make my wonder and his glory higher;
His bounty and my wealth more great;
It shows his kingdom and his work complete,
In which there is not anything
Not meet to be the joy of Cherubim.

He in our childhood with us walks,
And with our thoughts mysteriously he talks
He often visiteth our minds,
But cold acceptance in us ever finds:
We send him often griev'd away,
Else he would oft'ner come and stay.

O Lord, I wonder at thy love
Which did my infancy so early move:
But more at that which did forbear
And mov'd so long, tho' slighted many a year:
But most of all, at last, that thou
Shouldst me thyself convert I scarce know how

Thy gracious motions oft in vain
Assaulted me: my heart did hard remain
Long time: I sent my God away
Griev'd much that he could not impart his joy.
I careless was, nor did regard
The end for which he all these thoughts prepar'd.

But now with new and open eyes
I see beneath as if above the skies:
And as I backward look again
See all his thoughts and mine most clear and plain;
He did approach, he me did woo;
I wonder that my God this thing would do.

From nothing taken first I was:
What wondrous things his glory brought to pass.
Now in this world I him discern,
And me enveloped in more than gold;
In deep abysses of delights
In present hidden precious benefits.

Those thoughts his goodness long before
Prepar'd as precious and celestial store;
With curious art in me inlaid,
That childhood might itself alone be said
My tutor, teacher, guide to be;
Instructed then even by the Deity.