Classic Poem

Let wits contest,
And with their words and posies windows fill:
Less than the least
Of all thy mercies , is my posy still.

This on my ring,
This by my picture, in my book I write:
Whether I sing,
Or say, or dictate, this is my delight.

Invention rest,
Comparisons go play, wit use thy will:
Less than the least
Of all God's mercies , is my posy still.