Apon this question how doe, you doe.

Who can be well
Whilst here they dwell
In an imperfect. sinfull, stat
Stilling, bowing down under the weight
Of Sin, which dwells within
And ther doth sprout, & spring

It cannot be
heare, well with me
Whilst I am absent from my king
My joy, my comfort, & my spring
and fountain of delight
to whom I'de take my flight

I cannot say, / I'me well one day
Because I am imprisoned
And in times net entangled
So that I cannot fly
into eternity

from thosse words in luke 2 7 & laid him in a manager because there was no room for him in the inne

How strange this word, sounds in my ears
(ther was no room for him)
Who was above created peers
but in a sorry Inne

Nay worse then this, was yet his doom
Ther's no room in the Inne
But in the stable, was his room
though Zions crowned king

He did att first. the world creat
yet in it could not find
A room, to Lodg his weary head
t'was soe hard, and unkind

He who commands both sea, and land

Motives to quiken the soul to diligence, June 26

Let not thy sloth, thy hopes defeat
Shall any labour, seem to great
To win, to the imperiall seat
where god immense,
Keeps residence.

Is not the beauty of thy king
Enough, to set thy soull on wing
And make it always, to him spring
who is alone, thy only one

Is not the blessed three in one
Enough to make thee swiftly run
That thou mayst feast thyne eyes upon
that mistery
the trinity

How canst thou chouse, but long to fly
Unto that sweet, society

spirituall sloth the souls ruine

What cause have we, for to bewaill
Thesse slothfull harts, which we do traile
About with us, whilst we ar here
Were it not for our listlesnese
wee might enjoy, a fivefold mese
Of heavens sweet, and blessed chear

And come, to have a tast, and sight
Of that angellicall, delight
And thosse seraphik joys above
which we shall have, when get we shall
To'th vision beautificall
When we out of this world remove

How might the soull most sweetly spring
In meditation, to its king

Temptation vanquished

Doth Saten tell thee, that thy god
rejects thy confidence
Beleive him not, he still doth plod
To take away thy fence

That he may have, a free egrese
to doe thee greater harm
And thee, of comfort disposese
by this, his subtle charm

Thou mayst tell Saten he doth lye
the god of truth hath said
Hee that beleives, shall never dye
or have his hope, frustrate

Thosse that doe in Jehovah trust
shall as mount Sion stand
Which cant be removed but must
and is keept, by gods hand

The soull reaching out after an neerer communion, & higher atainments. June 26 72

It never is so well endeed, with me
As when I can be creeping neer, to thee
Thou knowst my god, I can but creep at best
yet till I am with thee, I find no rest
It is my Leasurely, dull, creeping, pace
That is my greatest trouble, in my race
Great measures of thy grace, I would here gain
And unto high degrees. I would attain
I would have heaven always shine in my
Converse, & dayly walking, to each eye
To heaven I would always take wide steps

From dark, and cloudy providences, upon the church, & people of god. June 25 72

Shall wee, our father angry see
And shall we, unconcerned bee
Oh shall we not, be sore afraid
When we doe see, the rod is laid
On others, whilst we ar as much,
Or rather more, in fault then such
Who have already smarted by
The hand of him, who dwells, on high
Whilst we doe know our selfs as deep
In giult, shall we not att thy feet
Throw our selfs down, and lye prostrate
Untill thou shalt comiserate
And take away, the guilt of sin

The soull expostulating with it self because of anxtious thoughts.

What meanst thou thus my soull to rove
From god, by vanity
Who is the object of thy love
wher thou mayst fix thine eye.

Why porst thou on afliction
before itt come att thee
Why dost tormentingly, think on
thosse things, that nere may be.

Do but believe, and thou art safe
all things ar for thee best
Art tossed by a bousterous wave
t'shall waft thee, to thy rest.

Why dost thou take up one hard thought
of god, as if he would

Our dependency upon. and beholdingnese to free grace.

When'th Sun removes up from the earth
On hearbs, and trees ther is a dearth
The sap, to the root, descending
no nourishment, from thence doth spring
And speedyly
the branches dye.

Thus is it Lord, with my poor soull
When thou, on whom, it hath its whole
Dependance, goest away from it
And tak'st away, thy sweet spirit
I soon decay
and fade away.

I am like unto one, that's dead
When thou away, from me, art fled
I neither can, stir foot, or hand

The soull desiring still to have that presented to its eye. as may, make it swiftly towards heaven.

An ernest peny give me still
of the inheritance
That I with joy, may climb that hill
and speedily advance.

Let me by faith, discern the goal
for an encouragement
Unto my tired, weary, soull
in its craky, ascent.

Hold forth, to me, the glor'ous crown
that I may restlese be
And never stand still, or sit down
untill thou give it me.

But above all, still let me veiw
The beauty, of my king