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Otia Sacra Optima Fides

[by Mildmay Fane]
  

collapse sectionI. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
My Reformation.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand sectionII. 


51

My Reformation.

If all the Span
Of Dayes
Lent here to Man
To Pilgrim in,
And in Times Kalendar enrol'd,
God should but Skan,
What might He finde for weight and Measure,
But Pounds and Pecks of this and t'other evil;
No one markt to His Praise,
But spent or sold
For Profit, or in Pleasure:
By whole-sale
Unto Sin;
And by Retaile
Unto the Flesh, the World, the Devil.
If the Immense
Goodness
Did not dispense
Its power upon
Our frailties, that like Clay or Glass
Makes no defence
'Gainst Potters, or the Glasiers skill:
What could we promise to withstand such loss,
Our Miseries redress,
Unless (alass!)
His Son He let them kill:
So Himself t'pay
That by One,
Which on all lay;
And t'expiate, through grief and cross.

52

Here am I lost,
So small,
Yet so much cost,
Wherein the debt
Would wel-nigh drive into despair,
Had not the Most
Of me been dross, and so unfit
To take the stamp of any Grace or Good;
Untill he that made all,
Did to repair
My Crackt estate, and knit
By His pain;
Wherein met
To set again
That Breach for Balm, His precious Blood.
Captives ye know
Are led
Into much woe
And Sufferance,
Untill by Ransome they get free
Again; and so
No more are bound, but to those wayes:
Where lies my bond and Obligation then?
To Sin was Cancelled,
But still with Thee
My Saviour, whose Bayes
O'r Death's sting,
Hell, and Chance,
A Conquest bring
To set me at full Liberty again.

53

Not what I will
To speak,
Or doe My fill,
As Appetite,
Not Reasons Fescue shall direct;
But with that Skill,
Thy Gracious Mercies shall infuse
To make me truly sensible of those;
Whilst I the Fetters break,
And so detect
That which did me abuse,
My Young years,
Which were light,
Too void of fears,
That so I might the rest for Thee compose.