Classic Poem

Deare Lord! while I bethinke me of the Ils
that me surround; and waigh the Woes I feele
Through mine owne fault (which me with Sorrow fils)
from Life to Death I ready am to reele.

The Sunne of my Care-clouded life hath past
his full Meridian; and doth now decline
To Seas of griefes , where Age doth sincke at last;
and, at each breath, Death seekes it to define.

Vse of offending, in my passed Dayes,
doth passe my strength to change , thogh faine I wold:
Custome (to Nature turn'd) my Nature swayes,
and of my selfe , the while, I haue no hold.

Yet, if I dye ere so bad use I leaue.
my life must leaue me hopelesse at my death;
For, what I giue to God I shall receiue;
and, as I spend , so shall I yeeld my Breath.

I minde to mend; but still procrastinate;
for, my Familiar, Sinne , is loth to part;
And doth my halfe-dead body animate
to vse her still; so, wounds , and heales my Heart .

But sith I am not sure to breath once more,
and that my life and death are well-neere met,
And Death t'eternall Weale or woe 's the Doore,
why sinne I now? my lifes Sunne neere is set.

What is in Sinne , that it should so bewitch?
A bitter-sweete (if Sweete it be) and makes
The Body glad, but still the Soule to grutch;
and eu'n from life the vitall-vertue takes.

The wisest yet, that euer breath'd this Aire
of Humane Race , well tride it to be so;
Whose equall Wealth and Wisedome did repaire
to all in Nature , but this Sweete to know.

And yet he found the Sow'r excell'd the Sweet
the Sweet but short, the Sow'r surmounting Time
Wee want his Meanes , his high Delights to meete;
yet hazard we our soules to them to climbe!

Lord, make me wise by his experience ,
who, in great wealth and Wisedome , plaid the Foole
And for meere Folly was at huge expence;
then, let his follies me still wisely schoole.

Yea, let me learne of Him that all doth teach;
of whom the wisest learne Sinnes snares to shunne:
He was a King , and Preacher , and did preach
that All is vanitie beneath the Sunne .

If all be vaine beneath, and true be sayes,
let me aboue the Sunne seeke true delight;
Which I shall finde by walking in thy Wayes .
so thou (deare Lord) consort me with thy Spright .

O then consort me so, and with his pow'r
enable me all lets to ouer runne:
Let me not stay one Minute of an How'r
to ioy in any thing beneath the Sunne .

But in thy Sunne of Iustice let me ioy,
which fils the Heau'ns and Earth with purest light:
Then, let all other ioyes my soule annoy,
that so in him I may alone delight:
Thou canst doe this; then doubt I not thy Will ,
Which still is good; then my good-will fulfill.