Classic Poem

The soull clouded after a clear sight of Christ.

Thou hast my hart, my god, my Lord
What is it, thou wouldst have
My comforts ar like Jonays gourd
Tell me the cause I crave

What Lothsome smoke, has turn'd thee out
Of thine own dwelling place
In mercy Lord, now turn about
Least I faint in my race.

Ther is somthing, has g'ven ofence
And made thee goe away
To ev'ry sin I am propense
In me, thou canst not stay.

I wander whilst I musing lye
Att thy great condesension
That ever thou, shouldst cast an eye
Towards, so black a dungeon

When as the sun, forsakes the earth
The flowers fade, & dye
So on my soull, there is a dearth
When thou remanst on high.

Yet somthing Lord thou leavst behind
As pledg of thy return
An akeing hart, & troubled mind
Whilst after thee, I mourn.

Thou hidst thy face from me, yet on
On thee, I will rely
Oh God, of my salvation
Thou'lt surely hear my cry.