Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ANNIVERSARIUM BAPTISMI (5), by JOSEPH BEAUMONT

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ANNIVERSARIUM BAPTISMI (5), by                
First Line: Woe is me, but even now
Last Line: Sooner we to heavn shall rise.
Subject(s): Baptism; Worship; Christenings

WOE is me, but even now
Proud & fond I studied how
To erect some gallant Vow
On this pretious Mornings Brow,
Whoe to Heavn allready ow
Whatsoe'r I can bestow.


From a Childe ingaged I
Stand in all Obligements by
Baptisme's sacred Bonds, which tie
Me so strait, that should I die
For my LORD, I still must crie
Spare thy Debtors Povertie.


But how often have I broke
That which then I undertook
And my Masters Wrath awoke!
Well may my Demerits look
For his Judgements heavy stroke
Whome so highly they provoke.


Clean He washd Me then, & white,
And with Graces Me bedight;
Which his Favour to requite,
I free promise made to fight
(Helpd by his inspiring Might,)
With all Those whoe Him despight.


Yet I foulie falsifie'd
All my Vows, & madly trie'd
How to serve the Hostile Side:
In which Service had I die'd,
What had my rebellious Pride
Gaind, but endless Torments Tide?


Would destroying Satan save Me?
Would this fadeing World releive Me?
Or could rotten Flesh repreive Me?
And (which most of all doth greive Me)
Could my wronged Lord forgive Me?
Or his scorned Heavn receive Me?


O my Hart, what shall we doe!
What, but with Confession to
Mercie's blessed footstool goe?
Mercie, is our Master, whoe
Allways pittieth the Woe
Of his meek repentant Foe.


Lend, sweet JESU, lend thine ear,
Loe my Hart, & I, am heer,
No ambitious Vow to rear;
But in guiltie woefull fear,
To beseech Thee Us to spare
Whoe our old ones down did bear.


Down We bore them all as We
Able were; yet still they be
Fixed sure above with Thee,
Nor could all our Treacherie
Break those Bonds & sett Us free
From our bounden Loyaltie.


Help Us then again to take
Up the Yoak We strove to break.
Light it is; Yet thy dear Sake
It by farr will lighter make.
Help Us, Lord, & from our Back
Let no force this Burden shake


O these Worldly Vanities
Whose heap'd Froth upon Us lies,
Cheat our shoulders in that guise,
And prove heavie Miseries:
Yf thy Cross their place supplies,
Sooner We to Heavn shall rise.

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