Classic Poem

My Soule , sad Soule , now sommon al thy Povvres
To seeke out Misteries past finding out!
But first, inuoke the Heau'ns to stream their Showres
Of Diuine Graces on thee, to disrout
The Clouds of darknesse, which ingirt thy Towres
And that vncompast Round thou go'st about!
If trauelling by Night we pray for Day,
Now must we going [blind] a wailesse Way