by Thomas Elwood
From Ellwood, Thomas. The History of the Life of Thomas Ellwood, Written by Himself. With a Supplement by Joseph Wyeth. Stereotype Edition. Philadelphia: Friends' Book Store, nd. Page 158.
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Thee, thee alone, O God! I fear, In thee do I confide; Thy presence is to me more dear Than all things else beside. Thy virtue, power, life, and light, Which in my heart do shine, Above all things are my delight; Oh! make them always mine. Thy matchless love constrains my life, Thy life constrains my love, To be to thee as chaste a wife, As is the turtle dove. To her elect, espoused mate, Whom she will not forsake; Nor can be brought to violate The bond she once did make. Just so my soul doth cleave to Thee As to her only head, With whom she longs conjoin'd to be In bond of marriage-bed. But ah, alas! her little fort Is compassed about, Her foes about her thick resort, Withinm and eke without. How numerous are they now grown, How wicked their intent! Oh! let thy mighty power be shown, Their mischief to prevent. They make assaults on every side, But thou stand'st in the gap; Their batt'ring-rams make breaches wide, But still Thou mak'st them up. Sometimes they use alluring wiles, To draw into their power; And sometimes weep like crocodiles, - But all is to devour. Thus they beset my feeble heart With fraud, deceit, and guile; Alluring her from Thee to start, And thy pure rest defile. But oh! the breathing and the moan, The sighings of the seed, The groanings of the grieved one, Do sorrows in me breed. And that immortal, holy birth, The offspring of thy breath, (To whom thy love brings life and mirth, As doth thy absense, death.) That babe, that seed, that panting child, Which cannot thee forsake, In fear to be again beguil'd Doth supplication make - Oh! suffer not thy chosen one, Who puts her trust in Thee, And hath made Thee her choice alone, Ensnar'd again to be. Bridewell, London, 1662.