Sololoqvies theologicall. I am alone, and yet I am not alone, for the Father is with mee. By J. S. Gent.

THou heart-rein-searching, spirit-pondering God, Turne mine eyes inward, teach my head to plod; To looke to what thou look'st, the maine, the man, The soule, the selfe; for when I gadding ranne So oft abroad, the divill he gat him home And made my wanton heart the teeming wombe Of stolen pleasure; stoale th' word and sow'd instead, A world of tares a world of griefe doe breed. Still may I watch, my yessell keepe sincere; Th'infusion else corrupts though ne're so cleare. And yet if thou deare God wu't please to come Into my heart, my heart'l sincere become, Tho' ne're so foule. And long'nough may 't contrive Wayes how to cleanse it, and to th' utmost strive, And all in vaine; unlesse that foulenesse cu'd Make faire. My sorrowes, watchings, cares, what good Can all from him who of himselfe is all Pollution? VVu't heare the humble call? O come, come, come away and doe not stay Untill thou comest, and then for ever stay. Sure there is somewhat of thee here, so longs To see thee, while my spirits in such throngs Come forth to welcome thee: nay a'nt I all Lovely in my Christ unto thy sight? yet shall My blacke abide? still will I sweetly grone To hast thy comming till I'm to mine owne. Then come blest day, come, inside outside turne, And try each thought by th' all discerning Sunne.

How humbly then sinceritie shall smile! When proud Hipocrisies unpainted guile Shall show her devill-like face! More humble were I, I must needes become the more sincere. Cause I have more o'th' God-of-puritie Sincerity, holinesse; and while I spie More beautious glories, th' obstacles more remov'd, He needs must be more humbly belov'd.