Divine raptvres or piety in poesie Digested Into a Queint Diversity of sacred fancies. Composed by Tho. Iordan |
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A Meditation on Childrens rashnesse.
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 | Divine raptvres or piety in poesie |  |
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A Meditation on Childrens rashnesse.
When Mothers are desirous for to playThe wantons with their babes, and shew the way
To finde their feete: to give their brats content,
They wagge their sporting fingers, and present
A penny in the forehead, or some pap,
To win the Children to the Mothers lap:
How soone will they their little grissels stretch,
And runne apace, aspiring for to fetch
This petty object? never caring though
Their way be full of stumbling blockes below:
Thou art that Mother Lord, thou usest charmes,
And still art dandling, Christ within thine armes
Presents most glorious objects to our eyes,
And shewes us where thy choisest mercies lies;
Why then are we so backward? why so slow?
Or why so loth into thy armes to goe?
Small molehils seeme as mountaines in our way,
And every light affliction makes us stay:
Why should we stop at petty strawes below?
Make us thy Children Lord we shant doe so.
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