In-Text |
Oh! saith the weake beleever, my fire is so litle (such a litle sparke in so many ashes ) that I feare 'twill out. My candle gives so litle light (and burnes so weakly in such mighty winds,) that I doubt I shall be in the darke: my pulse beats so faintly (there is such little vitall strength under so many mortall sinnes) that I thinke I shall ere long give up the ghost, and dye. But stay weake soules! |
Oh! Says the weak believer, my fire is so little (such a little spark in so many Ashes) that I Fear it'll out. My candle gives so little Light (and burns so weakly in such mighty winds,) that I doubt I shall be in the dark: my pulse beats so faintly (there is such little vital strength under so many Mortal Sins) that I think I shall ere long give up the ghost, and die. But stay weak Souls! |
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