Classic Poem

June 28 '72

Thy ways, ar ways, of pleasentnese
And all thy paithes, ar peace to me
This I must say, and will confese
Oh what will glorious heaven bee.

When somtimes, I can get to this
To have but only some dark sights
Of heavens future joy, & blise
And thesse angellicall delights.

How can I trample, with contempt
Upon the world, as vanity
From this I would, not be exempt
For all its spleanded, braviry.

Such reall, true, gainfull, commerse
Ten thousand worlds cant to us bring
As doth one half hours sweet, converse
With god, unto the soull bring in.

Let whose will then, this world esteem
And take ther portion, here below
Those comforts I will only deem
Worth having, as from thee doth flow.