O Lord, Never Suffer Us To Think

I Sing The Progress Of A Deathless Soul.

I Neglect God And His Angles For The Noise Of A Fly, For The Rattling Of A Coach, For The Whining Of A Door.

Yesternight The Sun Went Hence, And Yet Is Here Today.

Our Faults Are Not Seen, But Past Us; Neither Felt, But Only In The Punishment.

If They Be Two, They Are Two So As Stiff Twin Compasses Are Two, Thy Soul The Fixt Foot, Makes No Show To Move, But Doth, If The Other Do.