Poesis Rediviva | ||
Of Prayer.
Away cold hypocrite, away:
Why art not heard? couldst ever pray?
Didst heav'n in flames of zeal aspire?
Like th' prophet carried up in fire.
What sympathy hath day with night?
Communicates darkness with the light?
Where lust, revenge, and passion shrowds,
Can heav'n be found through such black clouds?
Talke not of faith, the Devils do
Believe as much, know more then you;
Nay do more good, though none allow;
They at that Name thou slight'st, forc'd bow.
Could such works save, they thee outdo;
They have their fear and trembling too.
Wouldst thou no more thine asking miss:
Learn then no more to ask amiss.
Why art not heard? couldst ever pray?
Didst heav'n in flames of zeal aspire?
Like th' prophet carried up in fire.
What sympathy hath day with night?
Communicates darkness with the light?
Where lust, revenge, and passion shrowds,
Can heav'n be found through such black clouds?
Talke not of faith, the Devils do
Believe as much, know more then you;
Nay do more good, though none allow;
They at that Name thou slight'st, forc'd bow.
Could such works save, they thee outdo;
They have their fear and trembling too.
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Learn then no more to ask amiss.
Thy self sweet Lord, thy self, I ask no more,
Heav'n hath no joy without thee, Earth no store.
Heav'n hath no joy without thee, Earth no store.
Poesis Rediviva | ||