 | A Spiritvall propine of a Pastour to his People |  |
TO THE PASTORS.
Sonnet.
VVithout a ground, we big into the aire,And sa our wark dois vanish with the wonde:
Thought in appearance it be neuer sa faire:
Na profite permanent there of is found.
If with our flockes, we lay not weill the ground
Right sure and solide, of the Catechisme,
Of all our paines, na profite can redound,
To plant the truth, and banish Atheisme:
And poesie, it is na Paganisme:
Bot sweit in Oyntment of the holy Sprit:
For sik as seikes their God in Christianisme.
To ken and keip, the mater fallen meit.
Great profite then this little paine may yeild.
Our flockes in Christ till edifie and beild.
M. R. D.
| A Spiritvall propine of a Pastour to his People | |