Prison-Pietie or, Meditations Divine and Moral. Digested into Poetical Heads, On Mixt and Various Subjects. Whereunto is added A Panegyrick to The Right Reverend, and most Nobly descended, Henry, Lord Bishop of London. By Samuel Speed, Prisoner in Ludgate, London |
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Faith's Mystery. |
 | Prison-Pietie |  |
Faith's Mystery.
With all the pow'rs my poor Soul hath,
O humble Love, and loyal Faith;
Thus low, my God, I bow to thee,
Whom too much love bow'd low for me.
O humble Love, and loyal Faith;
Thus low, my God, I bow to thee,
Whom too much love bow'd low for me.
Down busie Sense, Discourses die,
And all adore Faith's Mysterie.
Faith is my Skill, Faith can believe;
As fast as Love, new Laws can give.
And all adore Faith's Mysterie.
Faith is my Skill, Faith can believe;
As fast as Love, new Laws can give.
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Faith is my eye, Faith strength affords,
To keep pace with those pow'rful words;
And words more sure, more sweet than they,
Love could not think, Truth could not say.
To keep pace with those pow'rful words;
And words more sure, more sweet than they,
Love could not think, Truth could not say.
O dear Memorial of that death
Which still survives, and gives us breath,
Live ever, Bread of Life, and be
My Food, my Joy, my All to me.
Which still survives, and gives us breath,
Live ever, Bread of Life, and be
My Food, my Joy, my All to me.
Come, glorious Lord, my hopes increase,
And fill my Portion in thy Peace.
Come, hidden life, and that long day
For which I languish, come away.
And fill my Portion in thy Peace.
Come, hidden life, and that long day
For which I languish, come away.
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