Classic Poem

the soull under a sence of suspending the answer of prayer.

How long, oh Lord holy, and true
Shall I to thee, for mercy sue
Shall sin ly, as twere dead
And then get greater head
Ar not my foes, under foot trod
By him, that has in triumph rode.

Thou seemst to cast my pray'rs behind
Thy back, as if thou hadst no mind
To have any regard
To one, that would be heard
My humble suit is yet deni'd
For the which on, thee I rely'd.

I cannot, will not, hold my peace
Whilst lasts, this weary short lifes lease
I cannot be said nay
oh give, without delay
The thing which I ernestly crave
It is that Lord, which I must have.

With reverance. oh let speak
Thy promises, thou will not break,
Thou art god, & not man
Christs bloud has freely ran
And deerly bought bought the thing I seek
A spirit, truly, humbly, meek.

Thou hast all power in thine hands
To intercede for me. Christ stands
At thy right hand alway
Thou'lt not to him say nay
Thy spirit now can mortifie
My sin, and make it dead to lye.

I cannot, will not, let thee goe
Untill thou throughly, slay this foe
Oh lett thy spirits dart
Strick it unto the hart
What though thou makest me, to bleed
Thou wilt therby, my graces feed.

On this I doe resovle through grace
Whilst I have breath, I'le seek thy face
I'le not let thee alone
Till for me, this be done
My present stat, I will bewayll
Till through thy grace, I shall prevaill,

Although thou canst not look on me
Remember still, thy promise free
On which I will lay hold
And grow theirby, more bold
Oh let me never be asham'd
Of that hope, in me, thou hast fram'd.

Former experience shall bee
A sweet encouragment to mee
To wait, & not to tire
Till thou grant my desire
This earnest Lord, let me improve
Until thou doe, my soull remove.