Classic Poem

L ord , in thy Loue, let me be none of them
that loue but in a Calme; a time beleeue;
But when a Storme ariseth, doe blaspheme;
and with infernall Sp'rits , thy Sp'rit doe grieue.

Thus what I need , I craue ; but what I feare
thou know'st (deare Lord:) I feare I am too bold
To seeke thy loue , because I doe appeare
no correspondence with thy loue to hold:

For, he that merits hate (Lord) how can he
straight looke for loue? & who hath shame deseru'd
Seeke for immortall glory? or, to be
from shame and paine , which he deserues, preseru'd?

He moueth but his Iudge to iustest wrath
that, being faulty , lookes he him should cleare ,
Without meete satisfaction for the scath
which he hath done; all these my hopes doe feare.

For, he that is to shame and death condemn'd
small reason hath to looke for high'st respect;
If but his death by grace might be redeem'd,
in sense, it should be all he could expect.

But why, ├┤ why doe I now call to minde
what I haue done, to make my feares more rife?
Death I deserue: yet seeke I life to finde,
that liue but to offend the Lord of life .

Can I still vexe my Iudge , yet looke for grace?
and still prouoke my King , yet seeke his loue?
Nay, still but buffet my sweete Iesus face,
and yet expect he should my Iesus proue?

Alas! how should he? much lesse how can I
such fauour seeke, that so his Fauour wrongs?
Can wrong expect such right , in equitie?
├┤ no: for, vengeance to the same belongs!

Vengeance belongs to wrongs so great , so plaine ,
as so to wrong a MAIESTIE so great!
Then Fiare perswades me I seeke grace in vaine:
yet Grace makes hope some Fauour to intreat.

I haue neglected to fore-see the woes
that follow sinne , and now would grace for goe:
I oft haue taken mortall ouerthrowes ,
yet scarse haue felt a mortall ouerthrow .

I haue encreast my scars that feared not
to adde still sinne to sinne , and graue to light:
Fresh Wounds haue opened those before I got,
to make the Cure most hard, or curelesse quite.

And what the Balmes of Grace had clos'd before,
I, through the itch of sinne , haue opened wide;
Which, through corruption, now are growne so sore
that scarse I can so sore a Cure abide.

The Skinne , which growing ouer, hid my Wounds
through breaking out of the corruption , gape:
For, sinne the grace once granted quite confounds:
so that I feare I hardly can escape.

For, if the righteous man shall perish in
his sinne committed: how much more then shall
Repentant sinners turning eft to sinne?
the thought whereof more grieues me then my fall.

The newly dead, Christ quickly rais'd to life:
but he must groane in spirit, weepe, cry and pray .
Yet Lazarus be rais'd: for mortall strife
Death made with life , to leaue so long a Prey:

So, it is in Regeneration ; for,
the lesse the Soule's defil'd with sinnes delight ,
And the more she the least sinne doth abhorre:
the lesse winde of Gods Sp'rit reulues that sp'rit .

What shall I doe? I can but sinne (deare Lord)
if so; thou canst but plague, yea, plague with Death:
Sith still I sinne then, in thought, deed , and word ,
out off my sinne , or els abridge my breath:

For, Breath it is that kindles sinne in me
with blowing at the coales of damn'd desires ,
These through my banefull breath , still raging be;
and quite consume the grace that me inspires.

Then, if I did not breathe, I should not sinne:
yet should I loose my breath e'er sinne bewaile,
I by that losse should but damnation winne :
then, let me rue my faults yer Breath doth faile:
But if thou wilt that I should longer liue,
Let me no longer sinne , or longer grieue .