Classic Poem

We were of things the worst
And most accurst
If in this life my happiness did end;
Beasts and birds me exceed
In strength, in speed,
The divels me in knowledg far transcend.

The wicked in sports swim
Up to the brim,
The epicure abounds in carnal pleasure;
Th' ambitious man is crown'd
With honours round;
The covetous augments his daily treasure.

My conscience will not let
Me riches get
As others do, by rapine and deceit;
Both wayes it checks me in
Saying 'tis sin,
And warnes me of the hook under the bait.

As sparks do upward fly
Even so am I
To troubles born; at every turn we meet:
Reproach and ignom[in]y
My honours be;
My wealth serves but to buy a winding-sheet

Yet courage take my soul,
Let faith controul
Thy reason: let it fix thy thoughts elsewhere;
These worldly things ne're can
Make happy man;
Thy happinesse comes from a higher sphere.

With holy Job then know,
Though thou art low,
Thy head's as high as heaven; there lives He
Who thy Redeemer is,
And that thy bliss
In seeing Him with these same eyes shal be,

Worldly delights begone!
In Him alone
All wealth, all honor, and all pleasure lies
No sorrowes then shall rest
Within my brest,
His hand shal wipe all tears from my sad eyes.

His hand my head shall raise,
And crown with joyes,
Such joies no eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard,
No tongue of men can tell
Nor angels well,
Only to feel them shall be my reward.