Classic Poem

O God, silence my Passions, calm their Noise;
Then speak within, and let thy Heavenly Voice
Breathe on my Soul, in silent Whispers show
What Reason's puny Pratting ne'er can do.
Renew, refine my Temper, and impart
A soft and gentle Sweetness to my Heart,
All Infant-like, a plain ingenuous Mind
That's not by sly nor subtile Arts refin'd.
Give me a Heart which pure Humility
Hath pierc'd, and crush'd, and turn'd from all that's high;
A Heart which Penitence hath broken so,
Hath levell'd to the Dust and sunk so low,
That down beneath the Meanest it can bow;
A Heart all fill'd with Love, whose Flame ascends
First up to Thee, then turns and downward bends,
To all those infant simple Souls that be
Dissolv'd and purg'd in the same Flames with me;
A Heart that's all submissive, calm, and sweet,
And with a Heav'nly Mildness so replete,
That no cross self-will'd Stiffness it can show,
But all its own Desires still break and bow;
A Heart whose outward Vigilance declares
Its inward Labours, secret Sweats and Cares;
A Heart whose sprightly Motions upward show,
How bright its Flame, how swift its Passions flow;
A sober, modest Heart, from blustring free,
Whose steady Motions soft and silent be;
A Heart that's stript of all, which nought can move,
But only thou and thy Diviner Love.
This is the outmost Height of my Desires,
The tow'ring Wish to which my Soul aspires;
These are my last Requests, O let me have
What with such ardent passionate Sighs I crave.
I ask it not for any Thing in me,
Or any Thing I am, that's not my Plea;
But only what thou art, and what I find in thee.
Thou art my Father, Source, Original,
My Friend, my Spouse, my Saviour, and my All;
I'm sprung from Thee, a small, a little Stream,
A faint Resemblance, and a borrowed Beam:
Yea which is more, I'm honoured thus to be
Thy Son, thy Darling, and a Part of thee,
A never-fading and immortal Ray,
A Scene whereon thou wilt thy Loves display,
And act eternal Pleasures in the Seats of Day:
A Soul for whom thou left these Orbs above,
Suffer'd, and dy'd, and all to gain my Love.
My God, my God, O let thy Pow'r divine
Conquer this vain, this Rebel Heart of mine.
The World, the Flesh, and Satan rage in me,
O break their Force, and then triumphant be.
O suffering Life of Christ, ye cruel Pains and Death,
That crown'd the tragick Scene, and stopt his Breath;
Come triumph o'er my Soul in every Part,
Thro' all the hidden Corners of my Heart.
Kill, wound, destroy, let me a Victim ly,
Martyr'd and slain with Christ, then panting dy:
Transform'd into his Death, thus I'll receive
By Death, a nobler Life than what I have.
J ESUS , that Heavenly Life, that Life divine,
Shall then destroy and make this Life decline,
This criminal infamous Life of mine.
Then shall my spotless Eagle-Soul, set free
From all its Grossness and Impurity,
Take Wing and soar, and still pursue the Flight,
Till it be lost, and swallowed up in Light.