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Oor Men seek after Wealth,

Bondmen seek Liberty.

The Sick cry out for Health,

All seek Prosperity.

Nothing seek I but Christ;

He alone pleaseth me.

Let the World say what they will

Jesus my Choice shall be.

Fond Lovers long full sore

Their Mistress Eyes to see.

Discarded Courtiers crave

In Princes Grace to be.

No want, no woe feel I

If I Enjoy but thee.

Thou only art, and shalt

My only Comfort be.

Some weary out themselves

In ways of Vanity.

Some follow painted Flies

Thro' Fields of Misery

Some in the Mouths of Men

Place their Felicity.

Such trifles I contemn

Jesus for Love of thee.

Some sail thro' surging Seas

In daily Jeopardy;

Hazarding Life and Limbs

To be Enrich'd thereby.

Some toil at home therefore.

I by possessing thee

Have all they have and more,

Come Jesus then to me.