Classic Poem

In Quadragessimam — 1645

When all the Dayes w'have borrowd are mispent
Had we not need to beg more time were Lent
And not to suffer This too, to be gon
Because Abusd through Superstition:
A knife to Cut is Good but if to kill
It be abusd we say that then 'tis ill
All thinges are made for use; Abuses came
But as Usurpers to Deprave the same
And in some kind or other All we doe
Speak, Think, or have those have their moralls too
Our Pampred Bodies oft such Thoughts put on
That They Become like to Proud Gesseron
And when our minds from full Cups are exprest
'Tis Like to Baltashasser at His feast
Our Actions too Loaden with Temporall good
Cannot permitt t'Aspire at Spirituall food
But Over-fed we surfet and becom
Like to the Beast in all thinges, save being dumb
Tung-tide we are not when we would express
Our Enmety fro'th'Root of Bitternes
Nor yet uncharitable: 'less in this
To Judg that Those who hunger doe amiss
And such as Thirst too: whilst our Cups run ore
And Bellies are made Magazins of store
It should be otherwayes if we would shun
The hevy Doom of Sad Temptation
And as the Meat and Drink of Faith, prepare
A Holy-Fasting-Sanctefying Praier
Cookt from our Cornerd Harts and not the streets
A Sacrefize Incenst with Love for Sweets
And Thus performing what is Lent aright
We'l fear nor Scismatique, nor Ankorite.