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Holy Sonnet XV: Wilt Thou Love ***, As He Thee? Then Digest


Wilt thou love ***, as he thee? Then digest,
My soul, this wholesome meditation,
How *** the Spirit, by angels waited on
In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy breast.
The Father having begot a Son most blest,
And still begetting, (for he ne’er be gone)
Hath deigned to choose thee by adoption,
Co-heir t’ his glory, and Sabbath’ endless rest.
And as a robbed man, which by search doth find
His stol’n stuff sold, must lose or buy ‘t again:
The Son of glory came down, and was slain,
Us whom he’d made, and Satan stol’n, to unbind.
’Twas much that man was made like *** before,
But, that *** should be made like man, much more.