Classic Poem

W H at was I, am I or what shall I be?
I was nought, am nought; and, for ought I do
Shall be farre worse then nought! ├┤ wretched me!
why? was I borne for nought and worser too?

This makes me to deplore my Day of Birth
(sith I was borne to so hard exigent)
As all men doe, that doe enioy the Earth:
yet so enloy it as th' are ne'er content.

We hold that Infant but a Prodigie
that in his Birth doth not the World salute
With note of Present-future misery:
for that's his Birth right cleare and absolute

In Sinne Originall was I conceiu'd;
in actuall Sinne I liue; and I may taste
Eternall paine for that I first receiu'd;
with that I liue in nou: and that is past .

I in the Wombe was loathsome; in the World
a Sacke of all Corruption: in the Graue ,
A Prey of Vermine , and may thence be hurl'd
to Hell : if what Sinne spoyles, Grace doe not saue .

When I was nothing , then was I without
Hope to be sau'd , or Feare condemn'd to be:
Now, of the first I hope , but, more doe doubt
and, of the last stand still in ieopardie.

I was such, as I could not then be damn'd
but, now am such, as hardly can be sau'd:
For at the first I was in cleannesse fram'd:
but now by me its more then most deprau'd

Erect (deare Lord) my pristine Puritie ;
correct my present Vices; and direct
My future steps: direct them Sinne to flye.
and, to attaine the Grace of thine Elect:
So shall I praise thy Name (with them ) and say:
Blessed be HIM that so inspir'd my Clay.