Divine Poems | ||
The souls wish.
O how I long to be dissolv'd, and seeThis mortal put on immortalitie!
Me thinks each day's a yeer, each year's an age
Til I arrive at that most glorious stage
89
Look if I tread the same steps they have gone;
But I (like Drake) so great a compasse take
About the world, such strange Meanders make,
That they have got the goal in shorter space
Then I have been in running half my race.
So have I seen a christal streame to glide
In various windings by a meadowes side,
Making a thousand paces 'bout the shore,
Which in a strait line had not been twelve score,
O my deer God, cast down those banks of sin
That interrupt my soul from running in
An even channel to thy Sanctuary.
Ad wings unto my feet, which soon may carry,
Unto her Ark my Dove-like Spirit, blest,
By being fixt i'th' center of all rest.
Divine Poems | ||