A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets [by Barnabe Barnes] |
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Sonnet. XIIII.
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| 100. |
 | A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets |  |
Sonnet. XIIII.
[O benigne Father let my sutes ascend]
O benigne Father let my sutes ascend,And please thy gracious eares from my soule sent;
Euen as those sweete perfumes of incense went
From our forefathers altars: who didst lend
Thy nosthrils to that mirrh which they did send,
Euen as I now craue thine eares to be lent.
My soule, my soule, is wholy, wholy bent
To doe thee condigne seruice, and amend,
To flie for refuge to thy wounded brest;
To sucke the balme of my saluation thence,
In sweete repose to take eternall rest,
As thy childe folded in thine armes defence:
But then my flesh me thought (by Sathan fir'de)
Said my proud sinfull soule in vaine aspirde.
| A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets | |