Classic Poem

For thee my HART doth burne like fire (Deare Lord)
Which freesde before like Frost and chillie Ice ,
For thee to leave my sinne I doe accord;
Through which thy heavenly grace I did despise.
 All Follies now, as Shadowes vaine Ile leave,
 And unto thee (the Substance trew) I cleave.

In thee I burne, and in my selfe I freese,
Frozen through feare, but burning through thy Love,
Reason ore Senses mine, now oversees:
And her Authoritie ore them doth prove.
 Which makes me humbly call to thee for grace,
 Though (proud) before I runne a selfe wild race.

Repentance right, sad Griefe , salt Teares , sure Faith ,
Renue in me a sorie Contrite Hart:
My guiltie Conscience oft within me saith,
I Death deserve, yet Mercifull thou art:
  Sighs from my soule I offer for my Fee,
 As pretious Blood thou offredst once for mee.

My Hart now clensde (and yet not mine as now)
Sweet Christ to thee his first Home turnes againe,
From me he flies, and unto thee doth bow:
I give it thee, Accept I pray the same.
 Ah Soveraigne Saviour , do not now despise
 A broken Hart , for pleasing Sacrifise .