The soull eyeing the beauty of much grace, & deep humilyty, breaths after such a frame.

Adde still to grace, in this my race
that I may still advance
And soe may dayly, grow apace
both in the root, and branch.

And with it give humility
to ly under thy foot
That whilst the top, sprouts up on high
I may grow att the root.

The better others, of me think
the more low let me ly
Ther good opinion I would wink
in'to worthlese, vanity.

Oh let me be aprov'd by thee
and then it matters not

The souls comfort only from free grace.

Tis well for me
thy grace is free
Or else what hope had I
When on death bed I ly
Ready from hence, to take my flight
Unto the awefull Judg, of right.

The best duty
that ever I
Perform'd is not so free
from sin, but I may see
Enough in itt to make me dwell
For ever, in the Lowest hell,

Grace in high art
is imperfect
Coruption that doth weave
If self with it, and leave
Such durt, and filth behind that we
Cannot by it, Justifi'd bee.

Our chousest grace

Infinet power, & wisdome in bringing so much good to the soull, out of the greatest of evills. sin.

Sometimes I cant but wonder why
Thou shouldst in us leave any sin
Seeing thou couldst, as easily
Att first full pow'r o're itt give in
Into thy counsels deep
we may not to far peep.

But that which we doe plainly see
We may take notise of, and say
Tis for the glory, of thy free
Grace, which thou dost therby display
Whilst thou dost multiply
new pardons, from on high.

Wee must to heaven, goe halting

The soull under fears of declining.

I fear sometimes, I do decline
when I my self doe veiw
The seed, & bloom of grace is thine
Oh bid it not adeiw.

I cannot hold out one short day
if thou lett goe, thy hold
I stumble, & fall in my way
and soon grow dead, and cold.

Let not the thing, which I so fear
and always, greatly dread
Come on me, but let it appear
that I by thee, am led.

Oh let me never, make a stand
but always climbing be
Till entre'd in the holy land
to take full veiws, of thee.

The soull longing to be att home, can find no releive from the creture, but makes its moane to the god of pitty. July 18 72

How long shall thoughts perplex, and throng
For fear that I should here live long
and be deny'd
what is espy'd.

Thesse thoughts, doe put me on the rack
This is the thing which I doe lack
to be posest
of heavens rest.

None knows this pain, but those that feell
Ther souls, upon the racking wheel
Of strong desire
whilst they aspire.

And long to be posesed of
Ther hapynese which lys above

foly.

We fools, to broken cisterns goe
Although the fountain still doth flow

To which we may, have free recourse
whilst it doth run, with a full source

What mad ons then ar we to think
That sweeter, is this pudled drink

And purer, then the fountain head
In which coruption, never bred

The farther from the fountain we
To goe, the dregier it will bee

What fools ar we, to dote upon
Thesse filthy stremes, which run along

Here through the durty veins of earth

The soull courting death

When shall I bid thee welcome, death
unto this house of mine
When thou shalt take away my breath
I shall breath, more devine

I know not why, my hart should faill
when I shall see thy face
For why, although thou lookest pale
christs bloud, thee springled has

Thou art my freind, & canst not doe
me any reall harm
But break the wall, and let me through
into my saviours arm

Thou art to me, no enemy
Christ has took, out thy sting
And pousenous, malignity

our mistakes for want of skill in the methouds of the spirit in the actings of grace from whence proceeds trouble.

We fill our selfs with fear
And restlese, soull perplexety
Because we do not wisly eye
considering what is
Gods dealings here, with his
We look for god, & find him nott
Our ignorance doth so besott
Though he to us draw neer

We would be drawing lines
And boldly choking out the way
In which he should himself display
we this way look, and pore
whilst att another door
He doth come in, & yet we flee

The best trade. July 10 72

Wouldst thou my soull, be very rich
A constant beger thou must be
This is the only way by which
Great riches, shall flow into thee
take up this holy trade
and thou'rt for ever made

Necessity it cannot blush
It knows no shame-face'd modesty
It will into gods presence rush
It cannot. will not., be put by
if get to speak it may
it will not, be said nay

True poverty, it doth lay claim
Unto the riches others have
Necessity will make the lame
to run, to cry, & loudly crave

the worst of Christ better then the worlds best excelencys.

Christs refuse is, better by far
then this worlds hapinese
The worst of Christ, doth wholy mar
the world, in her best drese

Att the door of thy house to stand
is more felicity
Then earthly kingdomes, to command
or be advanc'd on high

Ther's more of heaven, in thy frown
whilst after thee, we moane
Then's to be found, in the renown
of kings, upon the throne

Tis better to mourn, ore thy grave
and weep, when thee we mise