.NDU.MjI1ODI: Difference between revisions
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To over load my soule, prest downe my sinnes, | To over load my soule, prest downe my sinnes, | ||
On wch my ghostlye enemye hath hurled | On wch my ghostlye enemye hath hurled | ||
His heavye load, the whole wayght of the world, | |||
And on the topp of all this packe sits hee | |||
O wretched man whoe shall deliver mee | |||
When to the world I crucified shall bee | |||
The world hath crucifyed mee unto thee | |||
Soe long a downe sleepe broad waye strowd wth flowers | |||
And for a crosse, stretcht on her bed I lye [in margin crux] | |||
Softer then downe, blowne wth p[ro]speritye | |||
Whose height is pride, whose depth Hells forrest roofe | |||
Whose breadth is life whose length a spann allmost | |||
When I should weare thy peircing wreath of thornes [in margin spine] | |||
My head wth wanton roses shee adornes | |||
And clinges me to her wth imbrace soe lovinge | |||
That but thou plucke me thence, there is, no movinge | |||
Ffor steed of peircing nayles shee fills my hands [in margin manure] | |||
Wth the vaine sinnefull use of coyne, & hands | |||
Wch though I spread my armes wide to receave | |||
Thee through my hands at last and nothing leave | |||
My readye ffeete least they should runn thy waye [in margin pedum] | |||
Shee fixes downe in sinfull myre and claye | |||
My myndes swift ffeet, that faine thy paths would know | |||
Shee nayles to earth, wth thoughts mosr base & lowe | |||
Insteed of gall, and sponge (to hide her mallice) [in margin Ffell] | |||
Shee |
Revision as of 01:42, 6 July 2017
Christo Salvatori O thou that on the crosse for me hast died Heare now and send mee not awaye denyed See, I am gone a straye, and am at losse When I should follow thee & beare the crosse My sinnes, when they should strike, stroake wth yr handes [in margin flagellu] Their libertye is worse, then whipps or bonds Ffor from thy pathes they turne my erring ffeet And make me quit thy yoake thy burden sweet Insteed whereof even myne owne flesh begins [in margin onus] To over load my soule, prest downe my sinnes, On wch my ghostlye enemye hath hurled His heavye load, the whole wayght of the world, And on the topp of all this packe sits hee O wretched man whoe shall deliver mee When to the world I crucified shall bee The world hath crucifyed mee unto thee Soe long a downe sleepe broad waye strowd wth flowers And for a crosse, stretcht on her bed I lye [in margin crux] Softer then downe, blowne wth p[ro]speritye Whose height is pride, whose depth Hells forrest roofe Whose breadth is life whose length a spann allmost When I should weare thy peircing wreath of thornes [in margin spine] My head wth wanton roses shee adornes And clinges me to her wth imbrace soe lovinge That but thou plucke me thence, there is, no movinge Ffor steed of peircing nayles shee fills my hands [in margin manure] Wth the vaine sinnefull use of coyne, & hands Wch though I spread my armes wide to receave Thee through my hands at last and nothing leave My readye ffeete least they should runn thy waye [in margin pedum] Shee fixes downe in sinfull myre and claye My myndes swift ffeet, that faine thy paths would know Shee nayles to earth, wth thoughts mosr base & lowe Insteed of gall, and sponge (to hide her mallice) [in margin Ffell] Shee