Classic Poem

O New England, thou canst not boast;
Thy former glory thou hast lost.
When Hooker, Winthrop, Cotton died,
And many precious ones beside,
Thy beauty then it did decay,
And still doth languish more away;
Love, truth, good-men, mercy and grace,
And wealth and the world take their place.
Thy open sins none can them hide,
Fraud, drunkenness, whoredom and pride.
The great oppressors slay the poore,
But whimsic errors they kill more.
Yet some thou hast who mourne and weep,
And their garments they unspotted keep;
Who seek God's honour to maintaine
That true Religion may remaine.
These doe invite and sweetly call
Each to other, and say to all,
Repent, amend, and turn to God
That we may prevent his sharp rod,
Time yet thou hast, improve it well,
That God's presence may with you dwell.