Good, and great God, can I not think of thee, <br />But it must, straight, my melancholy bee? <br />Is it interpreted in mee disease, <br />That, laden with my sinnes. I seeke for ease? <br />O, be thou witnesse, that the reines dost know, <br />And hearts of all, if I be sad for show, <br />And judge mee after: if I dare pretend <br />To ought but grace, or ayme at other end. <br />As thou art all, so be thou all to mee, <br />First, midst, and last, converted one, and three; <br />My faith, my hope, my love: and in this state, <br />My judge, my witnesse, and my advocate. <br />Where have I been this while exil'd from thee? <br />And whither rapt, now thou but stoup'st to mee? <br />Dwell, dwell here still: O, being every-where, <br />How can I doubt to finde thee ever, here? <br />I know my state, both full of shame, and scorne, <br />Conceiv'd in sinne, and unto labour borne, <br />Standing with feare, and must with horror fall, <br />And destin'd unto judgement, after all. <br />I feele my griefes too, and there scarce is ground, <br />Upon my flesh t'inflict another wound. <br />Yet dare I not complaine, or wish for death <br />With holy Paul, lest it be thought the breath <br />Of Discontent; or that these prayers bee <br />For wearinesse of life, not love of thee.<br /><br />Ben Jonson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/xv-to-heaven/
