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Holy Sonnets. 1.| |
Thou hast made me, & shall thy worke decay? [f. 33] |
Repaire me now, for now myne end do'th hast. |
I run to death, & death meets me as fast, |
And all my pleasures are like yesterday. |
I dare not moue my dimme eyes any way. |
Dispaire behind, & death before doth cast |
Such terror, & my febled fleshe doth wast |
By Sin in it, wch towards hell doth weigh. |
Only thou art above; & when towards thee |
By thy leaue I can looke, I rise agayne. |
But or old subtile foe so tempteth mee |
That not one hower I can my selfe sustayne. |
Thy grace may winge me, to preuent his art |
And thou like Adamant, draw myne Iron hart. |
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.2. |
As due by many titles I resigne |
My selfe to thee (O God) first I was made |
By thee, & for thee, & when I was decayde |
Thy blood bought that, the wch before was thyne. |
I ame thy Sonne made wt thy selfe to shyne. |
Thy Servant, whose paines thou hast still repayde. |
Thy Sheepe, thyne Image; & (till I betrayde |
My selfe) a Temple of thy Spirit divine. |
Why dothe the deuill then vsurpe in mee? |
Why doth he steale, nay ravish that's thy right? |
Except thou rise, & for thyne owne worke fight |
O I shall soone dispayre, when I do see |
That thou lov'st Mankind well, yet wilt not chose me, |
And Satan hates me yet is loth to loose mee. |