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The Conquest.
I.
IN Power or Wisdom to contend with thee
Great God, who but a Lucifer would dare;
Our strength is but infirmity,
And when we this perceive our sight's most clear
But yet I will not be excell'd thought I
In Love, in Love I'll with my Maker vy.
II.
I view'd the glorys of thy Seat above
And thought of every Grace and Charm divine,
And further to encrease my love
I measured all the Heights and Depths of thine.
Thus there broke forth a Strong and Vigorous flame
And almost melted down my mortal frame.
III.
But when thy Bloudy Sweat and Death I view
I own (Dear Lord) the conquest of thy love,
Thou dost my highest flights outdo,
I in a lower orb, and slower move.
Thus in this strife's a double weakness shewn,
Thy Love I cannot equal, nor yet bear my own.