XI. Henry Lok

From the “First Centurie of Sonets”

A HUSBANDMAN within thy Church by grace

I am, O Lord, and labour at the plough;

My hand holds fast, ne will I turne my face

From following thee, although the soile be rough.

The loue of world doth make it seeme more tough,

And burning lust doth scorch in heat of day,

Till fainting, faith would seeke delightfull bough

To shade my soule from danger of decay.

But yet in hope of grace from thee I stay,

And do not yeeld, although my courage quaile:

To rescue me beprest I do thee pray,

If sinfull death do seeke me to assaile.

Let me runne forth my race vnto the end,

Which by thy helpe, O Lord, I do intend.