Classic Poem

A cursing the Civel warr waged in the flesh by the Divel and a cheef means of casting out the Tempter

Whither amend you wicked Lust
To whet the Divel a sword?
Was not our Fathers fall but just
To make thee t'be abhord?
That with incontinency stil
Thou dost inflame our harts
And by intemperance of will
Seekest to drownd our parts?
Help (good Redeemer) now I pray
With thy right hand repayre
Th'own Image chase that Divel away
By fasting and by Prayre
The powre of bewty hurries blind
Ther's wichcraft in the tast
Let thy abstemiousnes prove Kind
Th'Example make me chaste
And kill that swelling wicked pride
That in me stil doth Reigne
That soe Converted I abide
Free from Deaths Soveraign.