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Sin

Sin!

O only fatal woe,

That mak'st me sad and mourning go!

That all my joys dost spoil,

His Kingdom and my Soul defile!

I never can

With thee!

Thou!

Only thou!

O thou alone,

And my obdurate heart of stone,

The poison and the

Of my enjoyments and repose,

The only bitter ill,

Dost kill !

Oh!

I cannot meet with thee,

Nor once approach thy memory,

But all my joys are dead,

And all my sacred Treasures fled As if I now did dwell In Hell.

LordO hear how short I breathe!

See how I tremble here beneathA Sin!

Its ugly

More terror, than its dwelling

Contains (O dreadful Sin!)Within!

HE

Sin! wilt thou vanquish me?

And shall I yield the victory ?

Shall all my joys be spoil'd,

And pleasures soil'd By thee?

Shall I

As one that's

And never more lift up the head?

Is not my Saviour dead?

His blood, thy bane, my balsam, bliss, joy, wine,

Shall thee destroy; heal, feed, make me divine.

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Thomas Traherne

Thomas Traherne (1636 or 1637 – c. 27 September 1674) was an English poet, clergyman, theologian, and religious writer. The intense, scholarly s…

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