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Divine Poems

Written By Thomas Washbourne
 
 

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Phil. 3. 13, 14.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


69

Phil. 3. 13, 14.

I count not my selfe to have apprehended; but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the Mark, for the prize of the high Calling of God in Christ Jesus.

This ilfe is like a race,
Where every one's a Runner, and the prize
A Crown of Glory: Heavens the place
Where the Mark's set before our eyes.
I who have not as yet
Scarce run out half the way, must not sit down
And think I've done enough, but sweat
And labour hard to get the Crown.
Nor may I cast an eye
Behind, to see how many I've out run,
But with the foremost I must vie
And better end then I begun.

70

For if I fail at last,
When I have gone the greatest part o'th' Race,
Or give off when the worst is past,
It will be much to my disgrace.
Nor is that all, but then
Another man shall take my crown from me,
And I with the faint-hearted men,
Out of the Lists quite cast shall be.
O Lord do thou annoint
Me with thy oil of Grace from top to toe,
In every lim and every joint,
That I may never weary grow.
But persevering in
My course with vigorous and active strength,
May be so happy as to win
The Goal first, and the Crown at length.