Classic Poem

The soull complaint, being greatly perplexed. May 6:73

What cloudynese, hath me possest
What dis-mall fears, do fill my breast

What Jealousies, doth me surround
And cause my greif, for to abound

Love unto Christ, is cal'd self love
And that which came not, from above

Sence of sloth, and, cecurity
Augments, my fears, and Jealousies

Saten, doth Joyne, his force, with fear
No Joy, or comfort, doth apear

I think that alls, hipocrisie
Soe fair, and spleanded, to the eye

Fears doe arise, to such a height
As quite, to overtop, my faith

My hart doth sink, and dy away
For want, of an enlightning ray

Somtimes, I think, that thou wilt take
Each talent, & me quite forsake

My mouth is stopt, and all that I
Can doe, is for to Justifie

Thy dealings with me, though I dwell
For ever, in the lowest hell

Wishing that there, I might but love
And praise, the god, that dwels above

But fears of hell. doe not molest
Although, my soull be sore oprest

Nay comfort, will not me content
Desire is not, upon it bent

I cant upon a litle live
Abundance of thy self then give

It tis perfection, I desire
att full enjoyment, I aspire

Till fully thou, thy self impart
I feell a restlese, dying, hart

Except from sin, I could be free
And keep a constant sight of thee

I look not to find comfort here
Whilst in, this lower hemispher

Charge me not with unthankfullnese
I know, I cannot, cry, guiltlese

But pity Lord, a gasping soull
Oh come thy self, and fill that hole

Which thou hast made, and thou alone,
What thou hast done, do not disown