Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/353

 COUNTESS OP WINCHILSEA ���Whilst here thy heart remains below, Thy heart, adorn'd in all its best desires, The Father kindly courts, thy awful God requires. �Think, with what reverence, and state, �Thy Maker is ador'd above, What mighty Beings, round him waite, �And pay their Worship, and their Love. That Cherubims, are in his sight afraid, And with enfolded wings their glorious faces shade. �How must that Guardian Angel greive, �That to attend thy soul is sent, Such cold petitions to receive, �As his warm zeal, can n'ere present? How must he greive, thy empty forms to see, In spirit, and in truth, his God must worship'd bee ? �How will itt swell thy final cares, �How, will it all thy hopes defeat, To see thy Sins, encreas't by Pray'rs, �Which only cou'd their force abate? How can'st thou hope, t' escape those forrain harms, Who thus against thy self, turn'st thy defensive �arms? �A PASTORAL �Between Menalcus and Damon, on the Appearance of the Angels to the Shepheards on Our Saviour's Birth Day �Menalc : �Damon, whilst thus, we nightly watches keep, Breaking the gentle bands of downy sleep, Least to the greedy woolves, that hungry stray, Our wand'ring flocks, become an easy Prey, Do thou, for song renown' d, some one recite, ��� �