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WESTMORELAND SEQUENCE Holy Sonnets. I. Thou hast made me, and shall thy worke decay? Repaire me now, for now myne end do'th hast. I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday. I dare not moue my dimme eyes any way, Dispaire behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my febled fleshe doth wast By Sin in it, which towards hell doth weigh. Only thou art above; and when towards thee By thy leaue I can looke, I rise agayne. But our old subtile foe so tempteth mee That not one hower I can my selfe sustayne. Thy grace may winge me, to preuent his art And thou like Adamant, draw myne Iron hart. 2. 5 10 As due by many titles I resigne My selfe to thee (0 God): first I was made By thee, and for thee, and when I was decayde Thy blood bought that, the which before was thyne. I arne thy Sonne made with thy selfe to shyne, 5 Thy Servant, whose paines thou hast still repayde, Thy Sheepe, thyne Image; and (till I betrayde My selfe) a Temple of thy Spirit divine. Why dothe the deuill then vsurpe in mee? Why doth he steale, nay ravish that's thy right? 10 Except thou rise, and for thyne owne worke fight o I shall soone dispayre, when I do see That thou lov'st Mankind well, yet wilt not choose mee, And Satan hates me yet is loth to loose mee. II WESTMORELAND SEQUENCE Holy Sonnets. 1. Thou hast made me, and shall thy worke decay? Repaire me now, for now myne end do'th hast. I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday. I dare not moue my dimme eyes any way, Dispaire behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my febled fleshe doth wast By Sin in it, which towards hell doth weigh. Only thou art above; and when towards thee By thy leaue I can looke, I rise agayne. But our old subtile foe so tempteth mee That not one hower I can my selfe sustayne. Thy grace may winge me, to preuent his art And thou like Adamant, draw myne Iron hart. 2. 5 10 As due by many titles I resigne My selfe to thee (0 God): first I was made By thee, and for thee, and when I was decayde Thy blood bought that, the which before was thyne. I ame thy Sonne made with thy selfe to shyne, 5 Thy Servant, whose paines thou hast still repayde, Thy Sheepe, thyne Image; and (till I betrayde My selfe) a Temple of thy Spirit divine. Why dothe the deuill then vsurpe in mee? Why doth he steale, nay ravish that's thy right? 10 Except thou rise, and for thyne owne worke fight o I shall soone dispayre, when I do see That thou lov'st Mankind well, yet wilt not choose mee, And Satan hates me yet is loth to loose mee. II ...

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