Classic Poem

The soull under a sence, of gods hiding his face

Lord let me have
That which I doe desire
I cant but crave.
to be sett, all on fire
I cannot rest
Lord what is this
the way to blise
and to that nest
Of sweetnese, where I hope to ly
Secure, to all eternity

Tis far from well
when thou thy self dost hide
It is a hell
whilst in the world I bide
Oh pity me
I am distrest
Open thy breast
and let me see
The stremings, of eternall love
And then my sorrows will remove

I clearly see
without a deity
Heaven would be
a hell of misery
It is thy face
and that alone
For which I moane
let me apace
March through this region of sin
To veiw my uncreated king

Quench not my coal
let thy love sweetly burn
And scorch my soull
as pledg, of thy return
Ther's no releif
except thou shine
by rays devine
I sink in greif
Oh cast a favorable eye
Upon my soull, or else I dye

This world of woe
thou knowst, I love it not
It is my foe
I'le none of't as my lot
From its vain pelf
upon the wing
Let me still spring
unto thy self
All's but a dream, A short liv'd sceane
Doe thou me, from it throughly weane

My freinds ar few
yet thosse few, through thy grace
I'de bid adeiw
so I might see thy face
And have my fill
thou hast my hart
By holy art
Preserve it still
And keep it safe, till get I shall
To'th vision beauatificall