Eliza's babes, or, The virgins-offering being divine poems and meditations / written by a lady, who onely desires to advance the glory of God and not her own.

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Title: Eliza's babes, or, The virgins-offering being divine poems and meditations / written by a lady, who onely desires to advance the glory of God and not her own.
Author: Lady, who onely desires to advance the glory of God, and not her own.
Publication: London :: Printed by M.S. for Laurence Blaiklock, and are to be sold at his shop ...,; 1652.
Rights/Permissions: This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this text, in whole or in part. Please contact project staff at eebotcp-info@umich.edu for further information or permissions.
Subject terms: Meditations.
Link to this Item: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A39234.0001.001
Cite this Item: "Eliza's babes, or, The virgins-offering being divine poems and meditations / written by a lady, who onely desires to advance the glory of God and not her own." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A39234.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 13, 2024.

Pages

Anguish.
FRom this distraction, Lord my poor soul bring,
That still thy heavenly prayses, I may sing.
For this distemper doth my soul affright;
My Lord, it takes from me, all my delight,
And pleasure that I had, in serving thee.
This trouble great, vaine folly brings to me.
If from thy holy service, I be tane,
No comfort can I find, but endlesse paine.
For what can yeeld our Souls here true content,
If to serve thee, we are not wholly bent?
For here I see vaine pleasures, quickly fly,
And that which I did love, must surely dye.
But in thy service, if I pleasure take,
And thy sweet word my whole delight do make.
That word doth still my drooping soul assure,
That for the best it shall be all to me,
If patiently I doe awaite on thee.