Anne Bradstreet

My soul, rejoice thou in thy God

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My soul, rejoice thou in thy God,
Boast of him all the Day,
Walk in his Law, and kisse his Rod,
Cleaue close to him alway.
What tho: thy outward Man decay,
Thy inward shall waxe strong;
Thy body vile it shall bee chang'd,
And gloriovs made ere-long.
With Angels-wings thy Soul shall movnt
To Blisse vnseen by Eye,
And drink at vnexhausted fovnt
Of Joy vnto Eternity.
Thy teares shall All bee dryed vp,
Thy Sorrowes all shall flye;
Thy Sinns shall ne'r bee summon'd vp,
Nor come in memory.
Then shall I know what thov hast done
For me, vnworthy me,
And praise thee shall ev'n as I ovght,
ffor wonders that I see.
Base World, I trample on thy face,
Thy Glory I despise,
No gain I find in ovght below,
For God hath made me wise.
Come, Jesvs, qvickly, Blessed Lord,
Thy face when shall I see?
O let me covnt each hour a Day
'Till I dissolved bee.

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Anne Bradstreet