home | index | concordance | composite list of variants | help |
Bright torch, wch shinest, that I the way may see, [f. 57]
Oh wth thy owne blood quench thy owne just wrath,
And if thy holie spirritt my muse did raise
Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer & praise.|
Sonnett
1
As due by many tithes, I resigne
My self to thee; O god, first I was made
By thee, and for thee, and when I was decayed
Thy blood bought yt, the wch before was thine
I am thy sonne, made wth thy self to shine;
Thy servaunt whose paines thou hast still repaid
Thy sheepe, thyne Image, and till I betraid
My self A temple of thy spiritt devine
Why doth the devill then vsurpe on me?
Why doth he steale, nay ravish that'es thy right?
Except thou rise, and for thine owne workes fight
Oh I shall soone despaire, when I doe see
That thou lovest mankinde well, yet wilt not chuse me
And Satan hates me yett is loth to loose mee.|
2
Oh my black soule, now thou art sommoned

[CW: By]