|
| By sinne in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh; |
| Onely thou art above, and when towards thee |
| By thy leave I can looke, I rise againe; |
| But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, |
| That not one houre my selfe I can sustaine, |
| Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art |
| And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart. |
|
| II. |
|
| As due by many titles I resigne |
| My selfe to thee, ô 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 me? |
| Why doth hee steale nay ravish that's thy right? |
| Except thou rise and for thine owne worke fight, |
| Oh I shall soone despaire, when I shall see |
| That thou lov'st mankinde well, yet wilt'not chuse me, |
| And Satan hates me, yet is loath to lose me.
|
[CW: III.] |