Classic Poem

Abought thoughts.

When shall it once, be naturall
To have my thoughts, on thee, still fall
as Adams e're he fell
With fresh delight
To take their flight
and always, on thee dwell.

It never is, soe well with me.
As when my thoughts, ar fixt on thee
But Lord, how doe they flee
And run a drift
Except thou lift
And draw them up to thee.

Tis thou that must atract, & draw
My thoughts from objects, leane, and raw
And make me to espy
by faith what is
in future blise
And an eternity.

Experience, doth me, dayly teach
Ther's nothing here, which I can reach
that is before me set
Can fill the hole
made in my soull
but that that's infinet.

Thou hadst from all eternity
Us on thine hart, and in thine eye
oh what a spur is this
to fix upon
our only one
The centor of our blise.

Oh let my thoughts, no more henceforth
To fix on thee, seem, to be loth
But draw thou constantly
thesse thoughts of mine
by pow'r devine
To objects, pure, & high.