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My self, a temple of thy spirit divine; * |
Why doth the devil then usurp on me? |
Why doth he steal, nay ravish that's thy right? |
Except thou rise, and for thine own work fight, |
Oh I shall soon despair, when I shall see |
That thou lov'st mankind well, yet wilt not choose me, |
And Satan hates me, yet is loth to lose me. |
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III. |
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O Might those sighs and tears return again |
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent, |
That I might in this holy discontent |
Mourn with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vain; |
In mine Idolatry what showrs of rain |
Mine eyes did waste? what griefs my heart did rent? |
That sufferance was my sin I now repent, |
'Cause I did suffer I must suffer pain. |
Th'hydroptick drunkard, and night-scouting thief, |
The itchy Lecher, and self-tickling proud |
Have the remembrance of past joyes, for relief |
Of coming ills. To (poor) me is allow'd |
No ease, for long, yet vehement grief hath been |
Th'effect and cause, the punishment and sin. |
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IV. |
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Oh my black Soul now thou art summoned |
By sickness, deaths herald and champion; |
Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done |
Treason, and durst not turn to whence he is fled, |
Or like a thief, which till deaths doom be read, |
Wisheth himself delivered from prison; |
But damn'd and hal'd to execution, |
Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned; |
Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack;
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[CW: But] |