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Nor doth hee by ascending, show alone, |
But first hee, and hee first enters the way, |
O strong Ramme, which hast batter'd heaven for mee, |
Mild lambe which with thy blood, hast mark'd the path; |
Bright torch, which shin'st, that I the way may see, |
Oh, with thy owne blood quench thy owne just wrath, |
And if thy holy Spirit, my Muse did raise, |
Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer and praise. |
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Holy Sonnets. |
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I. |
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As due by many titles I resigne |
My selfe to thee, O God, first I was made |
By thee, and for thee, and when I was decay'd |
Thy blood bought that, the which before was thine, |
I am thy sonne, made with thy selfe to shine, |
Thy servant, whose paines thou hast still repaid, |
Thy sheepe, thine Image, and till I betray'd |
My selfe, a temple of thy Spirit divine; |
Why doth the devill then usurpe on mee? |
Why doth he steale nay ravish that's thy right? |
Except thou rise and for thine owne worke fight, |
Oh I shall soone despaire, when I doe see |
That thou lov'st mankind well, yet wilt'not chuse me. |
And Satan hates mee, yet is loth to lose mee.
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[CW:II.] |