Page 128
The Poem.
NO prudent Husbandman expects
the fruit of what he sows,
Till every cause have its effects;
and1 1.1 then he reaps and mows.
He works in2 1.2 hope the year throughout,
and counts no labour lost;
If when the season comes about
His harvest3 1.3 quits his cost.
This rare4 1.4 example justly may
rebuke, and put to shame;
My soul which sows its seed one day,
and looks to reap the same.
Is cursed5 1.5 nature now become
so kind a soyl to grace,
That to perfection it should come
within so short a space.
Grace springs not up with speed and6 1.6 ease
like mushrooms in a night
But rather by7 1.7 degrees increase
as doth the8 1.8 morning light.
Is corn so dear to Husbandmen?
much more is9 1.9 heaven to me,
Why should not I have patience then?
to wait as well as he.
To promises1 1.10 appointed years,
by God's decrees are set;
These once expir'd beyond its fears
my soul shall quickly get.