severity in love, better than prosperity in anger July 3 73

How often dost thou strik our fingers off
From thosse delights, on which we set much love
Somtimes thou takst them quite away from us
And dost att once our I'dols, kill, and crush
Somtimes, thou dost to us imbitter it
And that way makst us, losser from it sitt
By that time we ar wean'd from them a while
Soon after, somthing else, doth us, beguile
And slyly steall away, from thee our hart
And of our love, itt takes away thy part
So that thy love, is forced to begin

Infinet love, & grace. July 2 73

If thou from hell, hadst only set
Us free. twere mercy. infinete
to those, who did rebell
But love, and grace, breaks through each let
and o're the banks did swell.

Thy love that rose exceeding high
In sending down, thy son to dye
our depts, for to discharg
And set, our soulls, att liberty
to walk in postures larg

If thou hadst only to the race
of sinfull Adam, shew'd this grace
To Let them still live here
Though they should n'e're have seen thy face

An addition of wonder.

But why shouldst thou such grace bestow
And bind thy self by promise soe.

That wee may now our right demand
(Though not from meritt) att thy hand.

By promise thou a deptor then
Art now become to sinfull men.

Who were in dept, soe far before
And can soe greatly, on the score.

That ages of eternity
Could nere hav clear'd us thorowly.

If thou hadst only sett us free
From dept t'had been great grace in thee.

But that thou shouldst become to us

gods promise put the soull into a firmer better state, then any thing of merit could doe, July 2

Though by desert, we nothing claime
Yet promise free, makes itt the same

And what by merit, we cant reach
Thy faithfullnese, to plead will teach

Thy promise, is a surer ground
Then any meritt, can be found

By promise stablish'd in the hand
Of Christ, we now more, firmly stand

In our converses mediate
Then Adam, in his sinlese state

A promise we may feast upon
When outward comforts, we have none

July 1 73

Oh why wilt thou, leave sin in thine
who couldst soe easily.
Att first, make grace, in them to shine
and from those bonds, unty
The methouds of thy grace, ar high
Above the reach of our weak eye

Tis this will keep us, humble here.
and nip pride, att the root
These wintor blasts, our sins breeds fear
and lays us, att thy foot
Wee cant whilst here, reach thy design
But up above, thy grace shall shine

By this thou wilt encrease, the dept
of thankfullnese, and praise

June 29: 73 - worlds deceitfullness

Oh pitifull empty world, & vain
unworthy thou'rt of
The least of our love
By loving of thee, oh what doe we gain
But great pain, & smart
Which reaches, the hart

Who can thy trechery, (world) endure
It is still thy way
to kise, and betray
Thou'lt leave us then, in the lurch to be sure
when we, unto thee
for succour, doe flee

What doe thy flaterers get att the last
when conscience doth nip
thou'lt give them, the slip

A chearfull countenance, the duty of gods, people, June 28 73

Why walkst thou droupingly
Dost thou not know each carnall eye
Will take ofence, and vainly think
Ther brutish swill is better drink
Then what thou hast to live upon
if thou walk sadly on

They cannot see thy hart
Or come to pry, into that part
None knows what's there, but god, and thee
Wilt thou lett others in to see
And give to them free enterance
by thy sad countenance

Besides all this itt will
Thy gracious god, dishonour still

Death no respecter of p'ersons

Death, he doth make. no diferance
Between the pesant, and the prince

Vain beauty he doth not respect
The crys of youth, he doth reject

It overtakes the young, and swift
And from the rich, receives no gift

It makes, the strongest hart, to yeeld
And where itt comes, still wins. the feild

His arows first, or last, they shall
Reach unto all, both great, and small

He shrinks not from the statly crown
But in the dust, he throws itt down

No sort, no quality, or age

June 26 73 two foes.

This world, and I, can nere agree
I wonder what's the matter
I frown on it, and itt on me
Wee dont, each other flatter
Wee ne're can cotten long togather
Oh when wilt thou, two foes disever

I'me far more fearfull of its smiles
then of its lowring looks
Oh keep me, from its subtle wiles
and its deceitfull hooks
Not by its smile, nor by itts frown
Lett me, e're to itt once bow down

I think, I care, as litle for itt
as itt can doe for me
Could I but once, out of it get

June 26 73

To man, art first. thou didst dispence
A law, of pure, obedience

T'was personall, and perfect too
And universall, runing through

Each precept of, thy blessed will
Which thou requirst, we should fullfill

Yett leaving man to liberty
The devill, with malicious eye

Did by his subtle, wiles creep in
And our first parents, quikly bring

With all ther sad posterity
Into all kinnd, of misery

Yet love, & grace, made no delay
But lookt about, to find a way