A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets [by Barnabe Barnes] |
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Sonnet. LX.
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 | A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets |  |
Sonnet. LX.
[Tvrne not away the sunne-shine of thy face]
Tvrne not away the sunne-shine of thy face(Sweete God of comfort) from my troubled hart
Congeald with sinne: doe not (sweete Lord) depart
From him that penitently sues for grace.
Whose soule through countlesse sinnes (my whole liues space)
Benumbd, can scarcely feele contritions smart:
What Phisicke then shall serue, what helpe of art
My dead soule to reuiue, and sinne forth chase?
Eu'n those pure Rayons of thy holy Ghost,
Those gracious beames of thy pure holy word
Shall mollifie, giue ease, and comfort most
To my cold frozen soule, and helpe afford:
Least with the frost of sinne my soule astounded,
After deaths griefe, should with hels sting bee wounded.
| A Divine Centvrie of Spirituall Sonnets | |